


oh! darling

by Kit_Kat21



Series: Beatles Tribute [2]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, F/M, Father Figures, Fluff and Angst, Jon and the Starks Are Not Related, Relationship Discussions, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-02-23 04:29:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 61,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13182378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kit_Kat21/pseuds/Kit_Kat21
Summary: Sequel to "Baby, It's You" told from Jon's POV.***He knows Sansa is worried about what his parents will think of Jon being a father to a boy who – biologically – is not his, but Jon hadn’t known, until this very second, that he had been worried, as well, about what his parents would think even though he wants this – Sansa and Brandon and a life with them – more than anything.





	1. One

…

 

**One.**

He has no idea why he feels so nervous. There is absolutely no reason for him to be and yet, as they drive closer to their destination, his heart continues drumming rapidly in his chest. He doesn’t understand it.

 

And yet, here he is with a drumming heart and a knotted stomach.

 

“Should I be nervous?” Sansa Stark asks from the passenger seat beside him and Jon Snow turns his head from the road just long enough to look at her before looking forward once more.

 

“Why should you be nervous?” He asks in return.

 

Sansa gives a faint smile and slight shrug. “You tell me. You’re tapping your fingers against the steering wheel and I don’t think it’s because you’re particularly in love with this song.”

 

Jon breaks into a smile at that and comes to a stop at a red light.

 

That’s true. Brandon is in the back, buckled into his car-seat, singing to the _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ theme song that is playing on repeat. It isn’t as if Jon and Sansa want to be listening to the theme song of Brandon’s favorite cartoon on repeat, but at three-years-old, Brandon Stark can enter a full-blown toddler tantrum at the drop of the hat and today is too important for both Jon and Sansa and today – of all days – just isn’t the ideal one for Brandon to have a meltdown.

 

_Hidden deep inside the jungle,_

_There’s hippos! There’s hippos!_

_Chloe, Zoe, Mick and Vic!_

_They’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

Jon doesn’t normally consider himself to be a dramatic person, but he’s fairly certain, many years from now, he’ll be on his deathbed, still hearing this song in his head.

 

“There’s no reason for you to be nervous,” Jon then tells her and takes his foot off the brake once the light turns green and he begins driving towards their destination once more. “They’re both going to love you.”

 

His mom, Lyanna, already knows Sansa in a passing way that people who are acquaintances with the same people in their lives know one another, but when Jon had told her a couple days earlier that he would like to bring Sansa and Brandon around so they could all meet, Lyanna had been extremely eager; as if she had been waiting for her son to suggest it and nearly doing so herself if he didn’t do it soon.

 

“I want to officially meet the woman my son has been in love with for all of these years,” she had told him.

 

Jon didn’t ask her how she knew he had been in love with Sansa for years. There had been so many nights he had been in a drunken stupor, saying all sorts of things that he couldn’t remember and he knew that it was during one of those nights that he had confessed to Robb regarding his feelings for Sansa and it is no surprise to Jon that he more than likely had made the same confession while his mom was around to hear.

 

_Chloe’s pretty,_

_And Zoe’s so smart!_

_Mick is always funny,_

_And Vic can be a bit mean._

_But they’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

_And they’re very best, best friends!_

Jon has never known his father; doesn’t even know his name. And he’s never asked. When he was a bit younger, he wondered that if he _did_ ask, if his mother would tell him, but he never asked and Lyanna had never offered him any information.

  
All he does know is the man lost interest in Lyanna very quickly once she told him that she was pregnant. He left her and never once looked back. Why would Jon ever be interested in meeting a man like that?

 

Lyanna Snow spent much of Jon’s childhood, working and trying to provide her son with everything. She was – and still is – a proud woman and Jon knows that she had always refused any type of financial help that the family of her son’s best friend ever offered her and she continued working two jobs – in an office, answering phones, during the day and stocking shelves of a grocery store in the evenings.

 

When Jon was thirteen, Lyanna met a man. Arthur Dayne. He had been an officer on the police force at the time, interviewing the employees of the grocery store after a robbery. He returned the week after to take a follow-up statement and the week after, he asked Lyanna if she would like to get dinner with him.

 

After a month – and three more dates – Lyanna felt that it was time Jon and Arthur met one another.

 

Having known no other father in his life except for Ned Stark, of course, Jon was going to make comparisons; not to mention that thirteen is a terrible, difficult age for everyone. But after a few months, Arthur and Lyanna were still dating and Jon came to understand that Arthur wasn’t going anywhere.

 

Arthur was studying for his detective’s exam and he and Jon found a shared like over crime shows on TV. They would often sit on the couch together, watching and eating popcorn as Jon asked Arthur questions about proper procedures and how realistic something was.

 

Slowly, Jon began looking to Arthur as another father figure in his life.

 

Arthur and Lyanna got married when Jon was sixteen and Jon walked his mom down the aisle and then stood at her side as she and Arthur exchanged vows. The entire Stark family had been invited to the ceremony and reception and though he had been sixteen and she only fourteen – and though it would be another two years before Jon realized his feelings for her – Jon still remembers the pink dress Sansa had worn and how beautiful she looked that day. While most girls felt awkward as they went through the trials of puberty and their changing body, Sansa had always looked beautiful to him.

 

At another red light, Jon turns his head to look at Sansa once more. Her own head is turned to look out her passenger window and he can see her hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting.

 

He reaches over and takes one of her hands in his. He can feel the fingers shaking ever so slightly and without thought or hesitation, he pulls her hand to his lips, giving it a kiss. Sansa turns to look at him.

 

“They’re going to love you,” he tells her again.

 

Sansa does her best to give him a smile, but fails miserably.

 

“What?” He asks and hopes that whatever she says, he’ll be able to offer her at least some comfort.

 

“Are they? Going to love me?” Sansa clarifies in a soft voice. “I… I can’t be what they imagined their _only_ son bringing home as a fiancée.”

 

Jon frowns a little at that, not understanding what she means.

 

Sansa continues. “Would they have wanted someone better for you than a single mom?” She asks him then, almost in a whisper and it’s damn hard to hear her over this awful theme song playing, but Jon hears her loud and clear as if she just shouted at him.

 

Jon keeps frowning and tightens his hand around hers. “My mom was a single mom,” he reminds her.

 

“So don’t you think she’d want something better for you? I don’t want either of your parents to think that I’m…” she visibly swallows. “That I’m just using you so Brandon can have a father.”

 

“It’s not the truth so why would they think that?” Jon asks and he’s aware that he’s frowning too deeply right now and he’s growing a bit angry, but he tries to keep it controlled so Sansa doesn’t know.

 

He knows it’s not a realistic goal to have, but he never wants to be angry when around Sansa. She’s had enough anger in her life and if he ever does yell at her, he wants her to be a spitfire and yell right back. Sansa’s not at that point yet, though. He knows it. So until she is, he hides anytime that he’s angry from her. Now is no exception.

 

He knows he can never fully understand all that Sansa suffered through – though what he does know more than paints the picture for him – and he knows that though she has made quite a bit of progress on the road to healing herself, there are still moments – moments like this – when he’s reminded that her self-esteem has all been crushed down into a fine powder – and no matter what she says, Jon knows he’s partially responsible for that.

 

He’s trying – he tries every day – and he can’t wait for the day when Sansa realizes how amazing she is.

 

Sansa visibly swallows once more, but doesn’t say anything to that and Jon grips her hand, not wanting to let it go. He kisses it again and he can feel that her fingers aren’t trembling as much as they were just a moment ago. Jon wants to think that he’s helped her; if even just a little.

 

“Jon! Green!” Brandon exclaims from the back and Jon looks.

 

“Thanks, Little Stark,” Jon says and Brandon giggles before going back to singing his song.

 

Sure enough, the traffic light has turned green and keeping one hand on the wheel and still holding Sansa’s hand with his other, Jon drives, making the turn into his mother and Arthur’s neighborhood.

 

After Lyanna and Arthur got married, Arthur was now a detective for the Wintertown Police Force and was making more money so he could provide better for the family he now had. He told her, that if she wanted, she could quit both of her jobs and Lyanna had hesitated – not used to someone taking care of her – but finally, in the end, she had done just that. Now, after a few years of getting used to it, Lyanna found herself to be quite happy, taking care of her husband and their home and her son when he came by.

 

It’s a quaint home – a two story brick cottage – and it is on a quiet street in a quiet neighborhood. Jon has always imagined – once he moved from the flat he shares with Robb closer to the business district – that he would buy himself a house in this same neighborhood, but he’s living with Sansa and Brandon in their small home and he will never even suggest moving from it. He knows how much Sansa loves their home.

 

No sooner has Jon pulled his work pickup into the driveway that the front door is open and he can see Arthur through the glass storm door. Jon is still holding onto Sansa’s hand and he kisses it once more. This time, he sees the smile spread across her lips and it makes him smile, too.

 

They both get out of the truck and Sansa opens the back door to unbuckle Brandon from his car seat. Instead of setting the boy down though, she keeps holding him in her arms and Jon knows that that’s more for her than for the little boy. Jon doesn’t say anything though. He wishes he knew what he could say to her that could make her stop being nervous, but words have never been his strong suit and when he does think of something to say, he usually always thinks that it’s the wrong thing.

 

With a hand on Sansa’s lower back, they walk up the path to the front door and Arthur pushes open the storm door once they step onto the porch, a wide smile spread across his face.

 

“Come in before you freeze,” he tells him, taking a step back into the hall once Jon has a hand on the door so he can hold it for Sansa to step into the house. “No Ghost?” Arthur then asks.

 

“Sansa has a dog, too, Lady and we wanted to leave both home this time,” Jon explains.

 

He won’t tell Arthur that no matter how much Jon had tried to convince Sansa that his mother and stepfather were more than used to having a dog in the house, Sansa didn’t want to bring Lady and impose upon them and they couldn’t take one dog and not the other. In the time that Jon has been spending more and more time at Sansa and Brandon’s house and then officially moving in, Lady and Ghost have gotten quite attached to one another.

 

“Lyanna, they’re here!” Arthur calls out and then looks to Sansa and Brandon, smiling warmly. “Hello.”

 

“Hello, Mr. Dayne,” Sansa politely greets in return.

 

It’s no surprise to Jon that Arthur corrects her.

 

“Arthur. And hello to you, too,” he gives Brandon a smile and Brandon smiles in return.

 

Sometimes, the boy is shy, turning his head and burying it to the side of Sansa’s throat or hiding behind her legs when meeting someone new and Jon is surprised at how relieved he feels that Brandon isn’t shy now when meeting his stepfather for the first time. After all, Arthur is going to be his grandpa.

 

“Hi,” Brandon chirps back. “I’m Brandon Eddard Stark.”

 

Arthur lets out a chuckle and holds out his hand. “Arthur Dayne,” he shakes Brandon’s hand formally and Brandon giggles with delight.

 

“He just learned his full name,” Sansa explains; as if she has to explain.

 

“It’s a fine name,” Arthur says, a smile still across his face, his eyes now on her, and Sansa smiles timidly.

 

Jon has already taken his coat, scarf and gloves off and then leans in, taking Brandon from her arms so Sansa can do the same with her outer layer. Arthur takes everything from her and Sansa then turns to begin getting Brandon from his coat.

 

“Thank you,” she says to Arthur as he turns to hang everyone’s coats up in the hall closet.

 

“You’re here!”

 

All turn their heads to see Lyanna Dayne hurrying down the stairs to greet them herself.

 

She first gives Jon a hug and Jon smiles as he hugs his mother in return. His mother always acts as if they have been apart for months instead of having just seen one another two days earlier.

 

“Mom, you know Sansa Stark and this is Brandon,” Jon makes the introductions.

 

“I’m so happy you’re here,” Lyanna smiles and then as she had done with Jon, she hugs Sansa and Brandon both. Jon can’t help, but watch Sansa closely and she looks surprised for a moment, but then smiles and with the one arm that isn’t holding Brandon, she manages to hug his mother with the other.

 

Jon feels the knots in his stomach start to lessen. He still doesn’t understand why they are there at all.

 

When Lyanna steps back, Brandon cups his hands around Sansa’s ear and whispers something to her. Sansa gives him a small smile and nod before looking to the others.

 

“I’m so sorry. May we use your bathroom for a moment?” Sansa asks.

 

“There’s no reason to be sorry for that,” Lyanna smiles warmly at her.

 

“I’ll show you,” Arthur offers and Jon remains in the hall, watching as Sansa and Brandon follow Arthur down the hallway, leaving him alone with his mother.

 

“She’s scared to meet you and Arthur,” Jon says once it’s just the two of them.

 

Lyanna’s brow furrows at that. “Why ever would she be scared of me and Arthur?” She asks as if she can’t possibly think of a single reason for her son’s fiancée to be nervous about meeting her future in-laws.

 

“She thinks you’re going to think she’s not good enough for me,” Jon answers.

 

“Other way around, actually,” Lyanna quips with a quick wink directed towards him.

 

Jon lets out a laugh, but then his mood goes somber again. “I just wanted to warn you in case… well, she might be a bit… stiff tonight,” he says after deciding that that is the best word to describe it.

 

“Then I’m glad I ordered pizza for us tonight rather than try to have some sit-down meal. Pizza makes everyone happy,” Lyanna says and Jon smiles at that.

 

“Thank you for doing this,” he says quietly.

 

“I didn’t do it for you,” Lyanna tells him – honest, almost brutally – as always. “This is the woman that my son is going to spend the rest of his life with. _Of course_ I have to meet her. And I have to get to know my grandson as well.”

 

Jon has no idea what to say to that; what he _can_ say to that. He knows Sansa is worried about what his parents will think of Jon being a father to a boy who – biologically – is not his, but Jon hadn’t known, until this very second, that he had been worried, as well, about what his parents would think even though he wants this – Sansa and Brandon and a life with them – more than anything.

 

And hearing his mom say that about Brandon – already calling him her grandson – Jon feels a lump in his throat he tries his hardest to swallow down.

 

Still without saying a word to her, Jon pulls Lyanna into another hug.

 

…

 

Arthur orders three pizzas and goes to the front door once the deliveryman rings the doorbell to collect their dinner and to pay.

 

Sansa has relaxed a bit more – especially once Lyanna shows the small chest of toys that had once been Jon’s that she has pulled down from the attic.

 

“You did not have to go through all of this trouble, Lyanna,” Sansa says once Lyanna carries the chest into the living room and sets it on the carpet in the middle of the room.

 

“It wasn’t trouble at all,” Lyanna assures her. “I had Arthur get it,” she then adds. “And it’s not as if Jon is playing with them again anytime soon.”

 

“Well, I might,” Jon says with a grin.

 

He then plops down on the floor next to Brandon, the boy excitedly digging into the chest to see what toys there are. They may have been old, but to Brandon, they’re new and Jon has always been the sort to take care of his toys since he and his mom didn’t have that much money to spend when he was growing up and toys were rare and precious to him.

 

Jon hasn’t seen these toys for at least fifteen years and he now sees himself on the floor with Brandon for the rest of the evening, playing with all of them.

 

“Thank you so much for this,” he hears Sansa say to his mother.

 

“Hopefully, this won’t be the last time you and Brandon are here and I want Brandon to be comfortable here and now, we’ll find something that will help you be comfortable,” Lyanna tells her. “Maybe Jon’s baby pictures,” she then suggests and Sansa lets out a soft laugh at that.

 

“Jon, look!” Brandon exclaims and holds up a plastic pirate ship.

 

Jon smiles and takes what used to be his favorite toy from Brandon’s hands into his. “This was my favorite,” he tells Brandon. “I wanted to be a pirate when I grew up.”

 

“Me, too!” Brandon exclaims excitedly.

 

“We’re going to have to take you on a boat soon,” Jon thinks out loud and Brandon gasps at the idea.

 

Jon then looks to Sansa, making sure that that would be alright with her. He’s still always worried that when he says something to Brandon, he’s stepping over some line that he has no right to step over.

 

But Sansa is watching them on the floor, now surrounded with toys, and she is smiling.

 

“Dinner!” Arthur calls out, carrying the pizza boxes into the kitchen.

 

And once Sansa sees the pizzas that have been ordered, she seems to relax even more. There is one cheese, one pepperoni, and after Jon told his mother and Arthur what Sansa’s favorite pizza is, they order a mushroom and green pepper pizza as well.

 

When Sansa sees it, she looks at Jon and gives him her first completely genuine happy smile of the night. Jon smiles too and even with his mother and Arthur in the kitchen as well, he slips an arm around her waist and presses his lips to her temple in a kiss.

 

“Mama,” Brandon begins tugging on her hand. “Can we watch _Hubba Bubba Hotel_?” He asks her, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

 

“We’re guests, Brandon,” Sansa reminds him. “We will watch whatever Lyanna and Arthur want to watch.”

 

Brandon pouts his lower lip out at that, but thankfully, he doesn’t burst into a toddler terror at that.

 

“I wouldn’t mind watching that,” Arthur speaks up even though he clearly has no idea what it is.

 

“There is a policeman on it,” Jon says with a tiny smirk.

 

“Officer Chester the Cheetah!” Brandon exclaims and then turns to Arthur, hopping up and down.

 

“I’ve often seen myself as cheetah,” Arthur comments. “Fast and sleek-”

 

“Oh, brother,” Lyanna says with an eye roll. “Come on, Brandon. You can explain the show to us.” She holds out her hand and both Jon and Sansa watch as Brandon easily reaches up to take it with his own.

 

Arthur, Brandon and Lyanna, with Brandon’s paper plate of pizza, all leave the kitchen to go into the living room and Jon and Sansa are the only ones to remain.

 

“Still nervous?” Jon asks her with his arm still around her waist.

 

“Yes,” Sansa answers honestly. “But…” she trails off and looks to Jon. She gives him a smile that he knows is real; not at all shy like her other smiles have been all evening. “We’ll all get comfortable with one another.”

 

Jon smiles at that and leans in, giving her a soft kiss; knowing she won’t be comfortable with anything more than that right now. He’ll wait until they get home later for that.

 

“Yes, we will,” he agrees, but he makes it sound like a promise and Sansa must hear that that’s what he means because she gives him another _real_ smile and Jon gives her another kiss.

 

…


	2. Two

…

 

**Two.**

To this day, Jon has no idea why Robb Stark is still friends with him. But he’s not brave enough to ask him. The times have been countless in which Robb would have had every right in the world to tell Jon to fuck off and leave him to rot in the gutter. And Jon supposes that a part of him is scared that if he asks Robb why he never would, it will just remind Robb that that is exactly what he should still do.

 

Jon remembers one particular incident; _the_ incident that is always talked about for anyone with alcoholism or substance abuse problems. They call it rock bottom.

 

There was darkness. And endless darkness and Jon felt as if he was on a roller coaster – rising up and then falling down, all in the darkness. He thought that perhaps he had died and he tried to remember how. There had been a pub – there was always a pub nowadays – and then he remembered getting into his car and then… and then, he didn’t know. Did he die in the car? It wouldn’t be the first time he had driven while completely bombed out of his mind.

 

But no, he didn’t think he was dead. He didn’t think death would be like this. Floating in darkness. He wasn’t a religious guy, but he thought there was something a little bit _more_ to the afterlife than this. He honestly thought, that when he did die, he would get to relive his time with Sansa. Stupid? More than likely. But he had just thought…

 

No, he wasn’t dead. He was still floating, but the darkness was growing lighter around him. He was sleeping.

 

Jesus, Jon, he thought to himself. How drunk did he have to be to not know the difference between being asleep and being dead?

 

There was a steady beep he began to hear and it seemed to be in time to his heart beat; the heart beating that he was suddenly aware of. No, he definitely wasn’t dead. His entire body hurt too much to be dead.

 

When his eyes finally fluttered open, he groaned and immediately closed them again. The room was too bright and his entire body – including his eyeballs – hurt. In the second they had been open, he had been able to see immediately that he was in a hospital room. What the hell happened to get him in a hospital room?

 

“Hey,” he heard a voice from his left and he instantly recognized it as Robb.

 

Slowly this time, Jon opened his eyes again and sure enough, his best friend was sitting in a chair next to the bed, leaning forward. Jon noted the slightly darkened circles beneath his eyes.

 

Jon opened his mouth to speak, but his mouth was so dry and he couldn’t get his tongue to work. Instead of speaking a word, he began to cough and Robb was immediately in action, filling a cup with water from the pitcher on the table next to his bed.

 

“They just took the tube out yesterday,” Robb explained as he stood next to the bed. “I know you’re thirsty, but you have to drink slow.”

 

Jon didn’t know what tube he was talking about. After helping him sit up a little – and that even hurt – Robb held the cup for Jon and as instructed, Jon drank as slowly as he could and once he had enough water, he collapsed back against the pillows; that simple task having completely exhausted him.

 

“Arthur was here, but my dad finally convinced him to go home and take a shower,” Robb said, sitting back down in his chair. “And my mom took your mom home last night. She needed to get some sleep.”

 

Jon turned his head on the pillow so he could look at Robb. “You?” He finally managed to croak out.

 

Robb gave a little shrug and the barest of smiles. “I’m young. I don’t need to sleep or shower.”

 

Jon didn’t say anything to that; speaking still hurt too much. Hell, everything hurt too much. He had a thousand questions to ask, but the main one was what the hell happened that he was in a hospital?

 

“Dad and Arthur already talked to the cops and since you’re the only one who got hurt – you, your car and the tree – they’re suspending your license, but you won’t have to serve any time,” Robb said.

 

Jon frowned. That gave him about a thousand _more_ questions.

 

“And now that you’re awake, I’m going to buzz the doctor so he can tell you some things,” Robb said and Jon had known him for too many years now to not know that Robb was hiding something from him.

 

“Tell me,” Jon forced himself to croak out.

 

Robb stopped from leaning forward to press the call button on the side and looked at Jon for a long moment. He then sighed heavily and slowly stood up. He didn’t say a word as he took Jon’s hand and guided it to the side of his face. Jon could feel the bumps of stitches above his right eyebrow; a _lot_ of stitches.

 

“When your car hit the tree, your head slammed into your window,” Robb explained. “You gave yourself a nasty concussion, but they think you’re going to be just fine.”

 

Jon looked up at him, waiting. He could tell that there was something else.

 

Robb swallowed thickly and shook his head. “The doctor should tell you.”

 

If Jon didn’t feel so exhausted and if his brain didn’t feel so heavy in his skull right now, he was sure he would start to feel a little panicked right now. It must have been something really bad if Robb couldn’t tell him.

 

“Robb,” Jon said his name and that was all he said; mainly because that was all he was able to say right then.

 

“Jon…” Robb began and Jon thought he was going to get the doctor then, but instead, he continued. “You had a lot of internal bleeding… they had to remove one of your kidneys.”

 

Jon stared at him as if he didn’t exactly understand. He didn’t have a kidney anymore? There was an empty spot in his body where it should have been. Obviously, he understood that he could live without one of his kidneys because he was alive right now and the doctor wouldn’t have removed it if he couldn’t be without it, and it wasn’t as if Jon thought about his kidneys any other day, but hearing that he was without one now, he couldn’t explain his reaction, but tears flooded his eyes and seeing his reaction, Robb’s own eyes filled with tears and he leaned down, putting a hand on the back of Jon’s neck and pressing their foreheads together.

 

“It’s okay,” Robb whispered to him and Jon’s body began shaking with his tears. “It’s okay, Jon. We’re going to get you some help and you’re going to be okay.”

 

Jon just kept crying because first, he lost Sansa and his life had been shit ever since and now, he lost one of his kidneys, too. A part of him – a large part of him right now – wished he actually was dead.

 

“It’s going to be okay, Jon,” Robb kept telling him as Jon kept crying.

 

At least he still had Robb. For some reason, he still had Robb.

 

…

 

He’s never told Sansa about his accident – about his rock bottom – and no one else has ever told her either; none feeling it is their place to tell her if Jon doesn’t want to. And he knows that it’s not because he doesn’t want to. She has seen his scar on his lower back over his missing kidney and Sansa isn’t an idiot. She probably knows exactly what has happened, but she hasn’t asked because she’s waiting for him to tell her.

 

She’s the bravest girl he has ever known and she shows him her scars on a daily basis.

 

But Jon admits that he’s terrified of telling her about his own. He’s a scared little shit because he has no one to blame, but himself for his scars. Himself and his own stupidity and the last thing he wants to do is disappoint Sansa. She already knows he’s an idiot, but he doesn’t want her to know just how big of one he is.

 

He knows he needs to tell her and he needs to tell her everything, but he can’t. Not yet.

 

He always feels like Sansa has enough to deal with and the last thing she needs is his stuff piled on as well.

 

By the time they leave his parents’ house, Brandon is sound asleep and Sansa bundles him up, the boy not even stirring as she does, and once Jon has his own outer layer on, he gently hoists Brandon up into his arms.

 

“You’re going to visit again,” Lyanna is telling Sansa as Sansa bundles herself up now.

 

“Of course we are,” Sansa agrees and she’s much more relaxed than she was even just an hour before.

 

To Jon, it’s pretty obvious that his mom and Arthur both already adore Sansa and Brandon and maybe, Sansa has figured that out for herself as well.

 

“What are you doing next Sunday?” Sansa asks Lyanna. “My mom and I are going to Mordane’s and then out to lunch. I’m looking at fabrics for a wedding dress and I just can’t make my mind up. I would love your opinion. Would you like to come with us?”

 

“I would love to,” Lyanna says and she looks like she’s about to start crying and she pulls Sansa into a hug.

 

With more hugs and thank-yous and good-nights, Jon, holding a sleeping Brandon in his arms, and Sansa head out back to his pickup truck. Brandon is buckled securely in his car seat and the ride home is quiet.

 

“Do you feel better?” Jon asks after a few minutes.

 

Sansa gives him a smile and a nod. “I do,” she answers honestly. “I didn’t know you considered entering the police academy. You wanted to follow in Arthur’s footsteps?”

 

Jon gives a single nod. “Arthur’s one of the best men I’ve ever met. I thought if I could be anything like him, I’d be halfway decent myself. I couldn’t be like your dad. I hate politics and I don’t have the mind for it, but being a police officer, it seemed good to me.”

 

“What changed your mind?” Sansa asks.

 

_Oh, well, got drunk out of my mind, plowed right into a tree, totaled my car, lost my license for a year, lost a kidney, began attending AA meetings. You know. Nothing much. It’s amazing I’m still alive, really._

 

Jon keeps all of that silent in his mind.

 

“I came to realize that it was best for me if I did something that always kept my hands busy,” he admits.

 

_Better a hammer in them than a beer bottle._ Again though, Jon keeps that to himself. 

 

He dares a glance at Sansa and she is looking at him. Once she sees his own eyes meet hers, she gives him the softest smile and she reaches over, sliding her hand over his. He immediately lets go of the steering wheel so he can hold it, their fingers interlacing.

 

“I remember when we were all younger and you helped Arya and Bran with their treehouse,” Sansa says with a faint smile as she looks ahead at the dark street through the windshield. “And when it was done, Arya made sure that every other kid on our street saw that it was the best treehouse in the world. And it really was.”

 

Jon smiles, too, at the memory and he shrugs. “It was alright.”

 

Sansa lets out a soft laugh at that. “Alright? My mother was prepared to call the newspaper so they could come and take pictures of it.”

 

Jon feels his cheeks warm at that. “It was four walls, a ceiling and a roof. Not exactly rocket science.”

 

“Don’t do that,” Sansa says to him then and he chances a glance at her before back to the road. Her thumb rubs back and forth over his knuckles. “You’re amazing, Jon. You’ve always been amazing.”

 

Jon tells himself that she’s talking about his building skills because Sansa, more than anyone, knows that he is the furthest thing from amazing that a person can ever be.

 

“I love you very much,” she whispers as if it’s some grand secret.

 

Jon isn’t stupid enough to ask her “why” even though he wants to. That’s not a box he should ever open because the reasons as to why Sansa _shouldn’t_ love him are pretty endless; at least in his opinion. After everything he did, and didn’t do, the last thing Jon ever deserves – in his opinion – is Sansa Stark’s love.

 

But not only does she love him and her son loves him, but she is going to marry him.

 

And just like Jon is afraid to ask Robb why he is still his friend, Jon is afraid to ask Sansa why she loves him; afraid that if he actually asks, she’ll wise up and be done with him.

 

“I love you, too,” he whispers back and he brings her hand to his lips and he leaves it there and they drive the rest of the way home, the cab of the truck, silent.

 

He’s got so many second chances already. He doesn’t want to think about what he’ll do when he runs out.

 

…

 

When they get home, Jon parks in the driveway – his truck too big to fit in the garage next to her car – and he goes inside first, letting out a barking and crazy Lady and Ghost into the backyard so they don’t wake Brandon. Sansa then enters the house, carrying Brandon right into his bedroom. She lays him down onto his toddler bed and Jon comes into the room and then together, they get him ready for bed – the little boy not waking as they change him from his clothes into his pajamas.

 

Sansa tucks him in beneath his covers and makes sure his stuffed wolf, Moe, is in his usual place by Brandon’s head. She then leans down and brushes his auburn curls back, kissing him on the head.

 

“I love you so much, sweetling,” she murmurs quietly to him. “And I hope you have the best dreams tonight.”

 

Jon stands in the doorway, watching, his heart churning in his chest.

 

He wants to have a million babies with this woman. Probably not a million. Sansa might draw the line at that. But he definitely wants to have two or three. Maybe even four. That way, they can have a house as crazy as the Stark house was when they were all kids, running around. But first, they need to get married and Jon knows neither of them want some huge wedding, but there is still some planning that has to go into it and Jon just wishes that they could just get married tonight.

 

But no, Jon won’t suggest that. Sansa, more than anyone, deserves the wedding of her dreams.

 

Sansa kisses Brandon’s head and then stands up, turning to see Jon watching. She gives him a smile and then comes to him, her hands coming to rest on his chest and he lowers his head to kiss her lightly on the lips.

 

“I’m going to get ready for bed,” she tells him softly, her eyes set on his, and he’d have to be both blind and deaf to not understand that she is meaning so much more right now.

 

He leans in and gives her another kiss. “I’ll get Lady and Ghost and lock up for the night. Don’t start without me,” he then adds and smiles a little when Sansa blushes as if on cue.

 

Sansa goes into their bedroom and Jon goes to collect their dogs from the backyard and lock the doors. He sets the alarm, too, as he does every other night because although Sansa isn’t nearly the scared-out-of-her wits girl she was just a few months earlier, Jon is the one who still wants to set it. In his opinion, there are far too many important things to him in this house and he’d much rather be safe than sorry.

 

“Be good for us tonight,” he tells the dogs and both wag their tails as if in perfect understanding.

 

Lady trots off to sleep in Brandon’s bedroom that night and Ghost drops into a heavy heap in his preferred spot on the floor between the couch and coffee table. Jon pokes his head into Brandon’s bedroom, checking on him on more time, and seeing that he is still fast asleep, Jon finally heads into his and Sansa’s bedroom.

 

She is still changing, now only in her bra and underwear and she turns, giving a smile, one Jon easily returns as he closes and locks the door behind him. He pulls his sweater and undershirt off immediately and then crosses the small room, sliding his hands over her hips, and Sansa gives him that smile that makes him feel like he’s the best man in the world. She loops her arms around his neck and their lips meet in a kiss that seems to instantly deepen.

 

She moans into his mouth and Jon begins rubbing his hands up and down her back, nearing her bra clasp, but not undoing it yet. He begins to pull her towards the bed and Sansa quite happily and willingly comes with him. He sits down on the edge of the mattress and pulls Sansa to stand between his knees.

 

“Sansa,” he murmurs her name as he pulls his lips from hers and begin dragging them down her throat, her chest, sucking on the skin of her sternum between her breasts.

 

Sansa’s head tips back and she moans softly, her fingers diving into his hair, releasing it from its man-bun and then holding on as he finally unclasps her bra and sucks one of her nipples into his mouth.

 

“Jon,” she moans his name and his name never sounds as good as when Sansa’s moaning it. “Jon… you make me feel so good,” she whispers into the room. “You’re so good to me.”

 

Jon moves his head to her other nipple and her hands grip his hair tighter.

 

One of these days, he wonders if he’ll be able to believe that.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked finding out a bit more about Jon that we haven't know yet and Good God! The response to the first chapter was just amazing. THANK YOU and I hope everyone has a very happy and safe new year!


	3. Three

…

 

**Three.**

“Jon?”

 

Jon instantly lifts his eyes from his laptop in front of him, grateful for any kind of interruption, no matter what it is, and sees Sansa standing there in the doorway between the kitchen and her sewing sunroom, giving him an apologetic look, hugging something to her chest.

 

Snow Construction doesn’t have an office. With just four employees, it’s too small to have one and Jon does all of the necessary paperwork that needs to be done on his laptop. First, it had been in his bedroom in the flat he had shared with Robb and now, it is at the table in the kitchen in his and Sansa’s house. Sansa is very adamant in getting him to call it his home, too.

 

Tonight, it’s payroll and while he knows he has the money in the company account needed to cover it all and all he has to do in transfer the proper amounts into Tormund, Edd and Val’s separate accounts, payroll always makes him a bit anxious. Snow Construction is doing well. Better than he honestly ever would have thought it would go for him once he made the decision to start his own business. Being a small business owner is nerve-wracking, but his crew is a good one and their reputation of doing good, solid work is spreading.

 

Stannis Baratheon has sent him another email, wishing to discuss some things with him.

 

Jon knows what those things are and honestly, he’s putting the man off just because Jon has no idea what to do. Baratheon Projects is the largest construction company in the South and while they do some work in the North, they don’t have the relationships like Jon does. Robert and Stannis, the owners, have expressed interest in bringing Snow Construction in under their company’s fold. Being a part of a bigger company _does_ sound tempting – especially when he’s doing payroll or filling out the proper permits needed for their different jobs. Robert and Stannis have people who work for them that solely handle those things.

 

Also, if he was part of a bigger company, he’d have more financial security and with him and Sansa getting married… he knows Sansa loves her job as a librarian at the library on the campus of Winterfell University, but he also knows that that’s not her dream. If he joined Baratheon Projects, Jon would have the money to take care of Sansa and Brandon and Sansa would have the freedom to do what she really loves.

 

Maybe he should finally respond to Stannis with more than one sentence answers. He needs to talk to Sansa and Tormund, Edd and Val about it. He also will want to talk to Ned Stark because even though Robert Baratheon is his closest, oldest friend, Jon knows that Ned would never give him bad advice. If Ned doesn’t think it’s in Jon’s best interest to merge his company with Robert’s, he will not hold back in telling Jon.

 

“I know you’re working, but I just need a second, if that’s alright?” Sansa asks.

 

“God, yes,” Jon says with a deep exhale of breath. “Take as many seconds as you need.”

 

Sansa smiles, knowing he hates doing payroll. “I just wanted to get your opinion on a few things. Wedding things,” she then adds and Jon finds himself smiling.

 

Wedding things. He loves the sound of that. He sees the guys in movies and television shows who are completely disinterested in wedding planning and the woman winds up handling all of it themselves, but Jon is not about to let Sansa do that. He wants to have a hand in everything. It might not be a huge wedding they are planning, but it is still a wedding and decisions must be made.

 

Sansa looks beneath the table as she slowly and quietly pulls the chair next to Jon away. Brandon is still sleeping on the floor, his stuffed wolf in the crook of his arm and a fleece blanket – decorated with a hippo pattern, of course – that Sansa had draped over him forty minutes before is still covering his body.

 

When he works at a table, Jon is used to Ghost being the one at his feet, keeping them warm. Now, Ghost is nearly always outside in the backyard, playing with Lady in the snow until Sansa calls them in again, and Brandon is the one to take his naps on the floor, taking his turn to keep Jon’s feet warm.

 

Sansa smiles when she looks at Brandon and then sits down beside Jon. He moves his laptop out of the way.

 

“What do we have?” He asks as she sets down a thick piece of white cardboard. There are three rows – three across and four down – of different color swatches.

 

“I went to a bridal store on my lunch break and began gathering colors,” Sansa explains. “I didn’t want anything too heavy or bright. Unless you want something like that.”

 

Jon takes a moment to look at all of the colors – soft tones and pastels. Sansa has a feeling that she meant for the colors to be soothing and that’s actually exactly what they are. The year before, Snow Construction had renovated the rooms in the Wintertown Nursing Home and the doctors and nurses had all wanted the walls to be painted in colors like this; not that he’s comparing Sansa’s choices to those of a nursing home. He just knows that people like these colors for the gentle effect they can have.

 

“I like them,” Jon says with a nod and Sansa releases a relieved sigh as if she has been holding her breath.

 

She gives a soft smile then. “So, I was actually thinking of making my wedding dress this color.”

 

She points to a swatch of a pale pink shade that is named ‘Something Borrowed’.

 

Jon frowns a little at that and looks at her. “Why won’t you get married in white?” He asks.

 

Sansa looks at him for a moment and then flicks her eyes downward and Jon follows the path, knowing that she’s referring to Brandon. He then looks at her again.

 

“No one cares, Sansa,” he tells her.

 

“I care,” she replies quietly.

 

Jon looks at her and Sansa’s eyes are cast down, studying the colors in front of her far too hard. He lifts a hand and tucks a loose strand from her braid behind her ear. He remembers the first time he reached out to touch her face and the way she had instantly flinched. He knew that she knew he wasn’t going to hit her, but she had been conditioned to think that any hand coming near her face was only going to inflict pain.

 

For not the first time, Jon wishes that Ramsay was still alive so Jon can kill him all over again.

 

But he does his best to not think of Ramsay because it’s his fault that Ramsay had ever been in Sansa’s life. If he hadn’t been such a chicken piece of shit when he was twenty, he would have had Sansa at his side for all of these years and he never would have let her go. Of course, then there would be no Brandon and that was another problem because he might not have had a hand in helping making the kid, but that doesn’t mean that Jon doesn’t love the little boy as much as any other dad loves their kid.

 

It hurts his head to think about it, but that doesn’t stop from Jon wishing that he hadn’t wasted so many years. Even when she came back five years earlier, he still didn’t go after her – even though that was what he had wanted to do more than anything.

 

Losing a kidney had definitely been a wakeup call to him that it was time he work to get himself sober, but having Sansa back – Sansa and her unborn child – even though he told himself that Sansa didn’t want him anywhere near her or her baby, her being back was Jon’s reason to _stay_ sober. He had to make himself someone worthy of breathing in the same air as Sansa Stark and her baby.

 

At the feel of his fingers in her hair, Sansa turns her head and gives him that soft smile of hers that makes him just want to kiss her and never let either of them breathe ever again.

 

“I think you’ll look beautiful in a pink wedding dress,” he tells her and Sansa’s smile grows. He looks down to the particular pink shade again. “There is a bit of white mixed in with it. I can tell,” he then notes. At least her wedding dress will be somewhat white.

 

Arguing with Sansa about what color her wedding dress should be will just be a waste of air on his part. Once Sansa sets her mind on something, that’s it. Few things – if anything – can get her to change. The Starks all share that impenetrable stubbornness and if Sansa doesn’t want her wedding dress to be white because she feels like people will, God forbid, *whisper* about her wearing white while already having a child, then there is no way that Sansa will wear white and give anyone a single reason to say anything.

 

“So, I think any of these other colors will look beautiful paired with the ‘Something Borrowed’ pink,” Sansa continues and they both look down to the color boards. “Which do you like the best?”

 

“What is the other shade going to be used on?”

 

“Napkins. Balloons. We’ll mix the pink with it, too, so it’s not so monotonous.”

 

Jon studies each color, taking his time, wanting Sansa to know that he’s taking this as seriously as her.

 

“I like the ‘Swedish Blue’,” he says, pointing to the mentioned swatch. “But blue and pink together, people might think it’s a baby shower instead of a wedding reception.”

 

Sansa laughs softly. “I was leaning towards ‘Swedish Blue’, too, until I thought of the same exact thing.”

 

Jon gives her a smile at that before looking back down to the swatches. “I like the ‘Sage’ color,” he then decides, pointing to the color as he leans back in his seat.

 

Sansa looks at the green shade and smiles as well. “Those two will be perfect wedding colors,” she says.

 

Jon smiles a bit wider at that. Wedding colors. _Their_ wedding colors – because he’s marrying Sansa.

 

Sansa takes a pencil and makes a small dot next to the two chosen colors. “So now the big question. Who do you want to invite to the wedding?” She asks, turning in her chair sideways so she’s facing him.

 

Jon gives her a smile and then leaning forward, he drags his laptop back towards him, positioning it more so it’s between the both of them. He minimizes the payroll window for the moment and brings up his word documents. Sansa’s eyes widen slightly when he pulls up “GUEST LIST” and then leans back again as Sansa leans forward so she can see what he’s been working on over the past couple of days.

 

The Starks and his mom and Arthur, of course. Tormund, Edd and Val. Margaery – even though she is still dating Robb and if he hadn’t put her on the list, she would have been Robb’s plus one anyway. But as one of Sansa’s close friends, there’s no way Margaery wouldn’t get her own invitation. Bran will be married by this point so Meera will be coming as will Gendry. There aren’t even twenty names listed and he would prefer a small wedding like this, but he already knows that if Sansa wants something much bigger than this – if she wants to invite all of the people her father knows from being Warden – that that’s what they’re going to do.

 

“Who’s Sam and Gilly Tarly? And Tormund has a plus one next to his name, but Edd and Val don’t,” Sansa notes, turning back to look at him.

 

“That’s because Edd and Val think that I don’t know that they’re dating,” Jon says and Sansa smiles, looking back to the list. “And I’ve known Gilly and Sam for a long time now. I…” he pauses. “Gilly and I met in AA.”

 

Sansa doesn’t say anything to that and Jon finds himself grateful for that. He’s not ashamed that he’s in AA and goes to the meetings every week and carries his sober chips around with him in his wallet. Getting sober and going to AA and staying sober, it’s all saved his life. But he still doesn’t feel completely comfortable with the fact that Sansa ever has to imagine him in that setting.

 

She adds two more numbers and then types in Nan’s name, her boss at the library, and Uncle Benjen Stark.

 

“Don’t tell him I forgot to put him on the list,” Jon says and Sansa lets out a light laugh.

 

“There.” She hits the save button. “It’s perfect.”

 

She leans into him and Jon turns his head so their lips can meet, his hand slipping to the back of her head.

 

“I’m marrying you,” he murmurs against her lips and Sansa smiles against his.

 

“You better,” she teases softly, her fingers following the curve of his jaw. “Brandon is already wanting to practice writing ‘Snow’ as his last name.” Jon begins to smile at that, but Sansa suddenly pulls back from him. “I’m sorry,” she says and Jon’s brow instantly furrows and his mouth curves into a frown.

 

“Why are you sorry about that?” He asks, having absolutely no idea.

 

“Because we… we’ve never discussed… You don’t have to give him your last name, Jon. He can still be Brandon Stark. It won’t make you any less of his dad. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do anything.”

 

Jon’s frown deepens and he takes hold of Sansa’s hands, pulling her back in her chair closer to him. He hates when she acts like a skittish rabbit and again, he knows she’s not afraid of him. He hates that he sometimes has to remind himself that she’s not afraid of him.

 

“We’re getting married and of course, you’re going to be Brandon’s dad no matter what everyone’s last names are. You already _are_ Brandon’s dad-”

 

“Sansa,” Jon cuts in. “Who’s listed on Brandon’s birth certificate as his father?”

 

Sansa visibly swallows and licks her lips. “There’s no one listed,” she says with a shake of her head.

 

“If you and Brandon both want it, of course I want him to be Brandon Stark-Snow.” He runs his thumbs back and forth over her knuckles. “It will be a bit strange when we have more children-” He is sure to say _when_ and not _if_. “-and Brandon has a different last name than the rest of his siblings. I know plenty of families are like that, but I never thought ours would be.”

 

Sansa is looking at him and there are tears glassing over her eyes and without a word, she leans into him and pulling her hands from his, she wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Jon’s arms circle around her and hug her so tightly, nearly dragging her body from his chair into his lap.

 

The oven timer goes off then, beeping and signaling that their dinner is now finished. Ghost and Lady, out in the backyard, can hear and both come running and barking to the back door. And Brandon stirs from his nap.

 

Sansa pulls back from Jon and he sees her wiping her cheeks even though no tears have fallen and he leans in, closing his eyes as he presses a firm, prolonged kiss to her forehead. She gives him a smile and stands up to go tug on her oven mitts and Jon gets up to go let in their crazy beasts from the back yard. The dogs come bounding into the room, shaking themselves off and instantly dancing around Sansa as she carefully opens the oven door.

 

With a smile, Jon turns back towards the table. Brandon is now standing up, the hippo blanket wrapped around his shoulders like a cape and Moe still in the crook of his arm.

 

“How was your nap?” Jon asks as he sits back down in his seat.

 

Brandon nods and yawns, still half asleep. “Mama, I’m hungry,” the boy informs them both.

 

“Good timing then since it’s just about ready,” Sansa smiles as she slides the casserole pan onto the potholder she has set out on the counter.

 

She normally wouldn’t dream of letting Brandon take a nap at this hour in the evening since getting him down later that night will certainly be challenging, but it being Friday, Jon figures they’re all a little tired from the long week they had all just gotten through.

 

“Hey, Little Stark. Want to help me with something?” Jon asks.

 

Brandon smiles and hurries around the table to join him. Jon smiles, too, and hefts the boy up, sitting him on his leg. Jon supposes he’s going to have to start calling Brandon “Little Snow” soon.

 

“Alright,” Jon maximizes the payroll screen. “I just have a few more things to enter…”

 

He keeps an arm around Brandon’s middle as he pecks at the keys with his other hand and Brandon watches everything he does as if it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. Maybe when he’s older, Jon can train him how to do the payroll for him so he doesn’t have to.

 

He really needs to get back to Stannis Baratheon.

 

“See this button?” Jon asks Brandon, pointing to the enter key. “Go ahead and press that one for me.”

 

Brandon is so excited as he leans forward and hits the button down with his index finger.

 

“Thank you, Brandon. You’ve just paid Tormund,” Jon says with a smile.

 

Brandon gasps as if that’s the best thing he’s ever heard. “I did?” He asks, his excitement growing.

 

“You did,” Jon smiles at him.

 

“Mama! I just paid Tormund!” Brandon exclaims as if this is the best thing he’s ever done.

 

Sansa laughs as she pulls three plates down from the cabinet. “I heard, sweetling. Tormund better thank you for that,” she says.

 

“Can I pay someone else?” Brandon asks, looking at Jon with wide, hopeful eyes – all remnants of his sleep completely gone from his eyes.

 

“You bet,” Jon says and begins pecking the keys again. “You can pay me now. We have a wedding to save for.”

 

“Yep, we do!” Brandon readily agrees and Jon grins and Sansa laughs again as she begins setting the table.

 

…

Sansa's Wedding Color Board

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!


	4. Four

…

 

**Four.**

As Warden of the North, Ned Stark is a busy man – to put it lightly. He has meetings and briefings and public appearances and business meals, followed by more meetings and briefings. Wintertown is the seat of the North, which Ned is grateful for because this is where his family lives and is settled and he would never consider taking a job that would uproot the lot of them. As Warden, he is supposed to work from the main Municipal Hall downtown, but Ned has bucked that tradition early on during his first term.

 

He has set up and works from his office at home. At least this way, he’s able to see his wife and whichever of his children that are around as much as he can. If he worked at the Hall, he would never see anyone again.

 

But despite the full schedule that Ned has every day – except Sunday, his one day off that he insists on having or else, as he as threatened more than once – any time one of his family needs to speak with him, he always manages to put at least five minutes aside for them – or more time depending upon the issue.

 

Jon has never asked for any of Ned’s time – has never had a reason to – until now. He gets up in the morning and one of the first things he does, after letting the dogs out in the backyard and starting the coffeemaker on the counter, is waking his laptop up and sending Ned an email, asking if he could discuss business with him.

 

As the coffee finishes brewing and he pours himself a cup of coffee, he looks back to his laptop. He’s not surprised that Ned has already sent a reply – already awake and working away.

 

_You, Sansa and Brandon come this Sunday for dinner. We can talk then. Everything alright?_

Jon leans over the table and sets his coffee cup down. _Just need some advice on Snow Construction. I’ll let Sansa know and we’ll be there. Thank you, Ned._

He hits reply as he hears the bathroom door close with a quiet click followed a moment later by a toilet flushing and water running in the sink. Jon sips his coffee and goes to stand at the back door, watching Ghost and Lady with their noses buried in the snow, clearly on the scent of an animal that had been in their yard the night before. They’re going to be distracted for a while.

 

Feeling a pair of familiar slim arms come around his waist from behind, he smiles and looks back over his shoulder. It’s Sansa, of course, pressing her nose to the back of his shoulder blade.

 

Sometimes – most times – he still can’t quite believe that he’s here and he knows that he’ll probably never get _completely_ used to it. Being here, living with Sansa and Brandon, making wedding plans to marry Sansa, eating breakfasts and dinners as a family, helping with Brandon during bath time and getting him ready for bed, making love to Sansa. After everything that’s happened, how can he be expected to ever get used to it?

 

“Surprised to see you up already,” Jon says. “I was pretty confident I wore you out last night.”

 

Sansa smiles at that and rolls her eyes – even as she begins to blush – and she kisses his shoulder blade through his tee-shirt before going to get her own cup of coffee. “You did alright,” she comments airily.

 

Jon can’t help the smirk that pulls at his lips as he turns away from the door to keep his eyes on her. “I think my jaw’s going to be sore for at least the next couple of days,” he comments while rubbing at it.

 

“Jon!” Sansa exclaims softly, her eyes widening, and Jon lets out quiet laugh, going to her at the counter so he can get himself a refill on his coffee.

 

He doesn’t say anything else about it. He just leans in and gives her a kiss on the cheek, still feeling the warmth of the blush across her skin. He wonders what Sansa would think or say if he suggested that after the wedding, they look at houses – something a little bigger and something that doesn’t have their bedroom sharing a wall where Brandon is sleeping on the other side.

 

Or maybe he can just suggest having Ned and Catelyn watch Brandon for a night so he and Sansa don’t have to worry about how loud they are being. Jon doubts, though, that Sansa will send their son away for a night just so Jon can hear Sansa cry out when he has his face between her thighs.

 

And he knows she loves this little house. Moving out of her parents’ house after living with them for four years, this house both symbolizes and means so much to Sansa. Getting her to think about moving wouldn’t be an easy task and Jon doesn’t know if he’s up for it to convince her. He loves this house, too, to be honest. It’s a little small – even with three people and two dogs. Jon can’t imagine what they will do when they have another baby because he’s told Sansa that he wants more children, she doesn’t know that he meant that that means that he wants to get her pregnant as soon as he can after their wedding.

 

He should probably start looking at the zones and different codes for this neighborhood of Wintertown and if he would be permitted to start making additions onto the house. Building the sunroom onto the back had been easy enough, but getting permission to build _upwards_ is somewhat different.

 

“Do you want me to pack you a lunch for your drive today?” Sansa asks, breaking through his thoughts.

 

“Hmmm?” It takes him a moment to understand what she’s asked. He then shakes his head. “That’s alright. I have the walk through and then after, I’m meeting Arya for lunch somewhere.”

 

Arya and her boyfriend, Gendry, live in Torrhen’s Square and it’s not every day that Jon is able to go there. Usually, Arya and Gendry drive back to Wintertown for a random weekend, but today, there is a bidding opportunity on a new addition being built onto one of the elementary schools there and Jon is going to be walking through with the other estimators before he works on his bid proposal. When he had called Arya a couple of days before to tell her, she had been excited – to put it mildly – and promptly told him that she would take the afternoon off from work so she could spend some good and proper time with him instead of rushing through her hour-long lunch break.

 

Sansa smiles as she stirs the cream into her coffee and then goes to return the carton to the refrigerator. “Do you mind calling me on your way home so I know when you’re on your way? Only if you think of it,” she then adds; a bit quickly. 

 

“Of course I’ll call you,” Jon readily promises her. “You don’t have to ask me to do that, Sansa.”

 

Sansa turns her head to look at him. “I know that,” she says though he knows she doesn’t know that; at all.

 

Like he knows there will always be a part of himself who will never be completely used to actually being in Sansa’s life again and having Sansa in his, he wonders if Sansa will always be extra-cautious in their relationship – not wanting to cause any waves or step on any toes – even though there’s no reason for her to be. Jon hopes she won’t be. He wants her to pester him and he wants her to always have him call her. He wants her to always _want_ him to call her.

 

He slides his mug onto the counter and then standing behind her, it’s his turn to wrap his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “Remember that, then,” he murmurs in her ear. “I want you to nag and harp on me for the rest of our lives.”

 

Sansa turns her head to give him a frown. “I will not be a nagging wife.”

 

Jon smiles a little and shrugs. “Even if you do, I’ll love you. You can ask me to do anything and I’ll love you. And just know that I _want_ to call you when I’m on my way home.”

 

Sansa looks at him, taking a moment to do so, as if she’s trying to decide whether he really means that or not, but then she smiles and her eyes slide shut as Jon presses a kiss to her temple.

 

“I love you,” she tells him softly.

 

“I love you, too,” Jon whispers in return.

 

He keeps holding her and Sansa sighs and it sounds like a sigh of complete contentment. He already knows the answer, but Jon wonders if she’ll love him if he tells her anything. He knows she will. He tells himself that she will. And there are things that she definitely needs to know before they get married. She is going to be his wife. She’s already the love of his life and Jon needs to tell her about his kidney – or lack thereof.

 

He’s never been married before – obviously – but he’s not oblivious enough to not know typical wedding vows. And one of them specifically involves sickness and health. He is fine, but maybe, down the road, something will happen where he won’t be fine and the doctors will need to know that he only has one kidney. Sansa needs to know so she can be the one to tell the doctors absolutely everything about his health and medical history. If _she_ only had kidney, Jon sure as hell would want to know about it.

 

“Um,” Jon clears his throat. “Your dad wanted to know if we would come for Sunday dinner this week.”

 

Sansa smiles. “Of course. Mom and I are going over a few things and we can do it before we eat.”

 

“What kind of things?” Jon finally steps away from her again, taking up his coffee mug. “Wedding things?”

 

“She bought a few _dozen_ magazines and she thinks it will be fun to start going through them, getting ideas.”

 

“I want to go through them, too,” Jon says.

 

And even though he’s already told her that he wants to be involved with the planning, Sansa still looks at him with surprise. “Really?”

 

“Don’t trust my opinion?” He asks, only partially teasing.

 

“Of course I do,” Sansa readily replies. “I just didn’t think you would care much about flowers.”

 

“Are they flowers for our wedding?”

 

Sansa pauses for a moment; as if the question confuses her. “Yes,” she is able to answer him.

 

“Well, then, yes. I care very much about flowers,” Jon tells her and Sansa looks at him for a moment before a slow smile starts creeping across her face as if she has never heard anything better than that.

 

Jon smiles in return and leans in, kissing her.

 

The kiss lasts for just a few seconds, but when their lips separate, Jon swears he feels a little breathless and it takes Sansa another passing second for eyes to flutter open.

 

“I should get Brandon up,” Jon says once his eyes catch the clock on the microwave.

 

Sansa nods. “I’ll get breakfast started. Don’t forget to-”

 

“I know,” Jon nods and Sansa smiles faintly and seems to shake her head at herself for perhaps thinking that he didn’t and she goes to the refrigerator to get the carton of eggs as Jon heads for Brandon’s bedroom.

 

Brandon is not a morning person. Not just morning _kid_ , but morning person, and getting him out of bed in the mornings is no simple chore. It takes a person with extremely sophisticated and practiced negotiation skills. Sansa lets Jon practice and he thinks he’s getting better at it. That’s what he likes to think anyway.

 

Jon steps into the room slowly and quietly. Sure enough, Brandon is still in his little toddler bed. His eyes are open, but Jon isn’t fooled. Just because the boy is awake doesn’t mean he wants to leave the warmth of his bed. Jon can’t necessarily blame him. If he would be able to, he wouldn’t mind spending all day in bed – especially if Sansa would be able to spend that day alongside him.

 

“Good morning,” Jon says quietly.

 

When he was a teenager and didn’t want to get out of bed for school, his mom would walk into his room, flip on the overhead bedroom light and clap her hands loudly while saying his name over and over again until he pulled himself from the bed just to shut her up.

 

Jon doesn’t do that with Brandon though. Jon’s fairly certain that waking your kid up like that is some form of child abuse and he’s always meant to ask Arthur about that.

 

“Time to get up, Brandon.”

 

“No,” the three-year-old immediately says in as firm a tone as can be mustered.

 

Jon nearly smiles, but no. He knows he can’t. If Brandon sees him smile, he will think that refusing to get out of bed is a “cute” thing and Sansa has told him that with toddlers, don’t give them an inch. They take a mile.

 

“Your mama’s making breakfast for you,” Jon continues and begins to slowly pull the blankets off of him.

 

Brandon whines and rolls over onto his stomach, his face going into his pillow. Again, Jon purses his lips together even though Brandon can’t see if a smile _does_ break through. He won’t risk it. He has learned that with Brandon, little kids seem to possess an almost superhero skill of seeing things when adults think that they can’t and the coast is clear.

 

“Your mama’s got chocolate for you,” Jon adds.

 

Brandon’s head instantly lifts at that and within seconds, he has sprung from the bed, taking his stuffed wolf, Moe, with him, and Jon smiles to himself, proud, as he races from the room for the kitchen. It might have been a slight exaggeration – Jon doesn’t want to think of it as an outright lie – but it got Brandon out of bed so mission accomplished. Jon bends over and places his hand on the bed, feeling the mattress through the fleece pirate sheets. Brandon is still being potty-trained and wears pull-ups and Jon and Sansa check each morning to see if the bed is still dry.

 

Jon smiles when he feels that things are dry this morning.

 

“Jon!” Sansa yells then and it’s obvious from her tone that she’s not pleased, but Jon just keeps smiling as he heads from Brandon’s bedroom back to the kitchen.

 

…

 

“Jon!” Arya exclaims the instant Jon steps into the restaurant crowded with the lunch rush. Jon smiles as he goes towards the booth she’s standing next to and as soon as he’s close enough, she throws her arms around him in the tightest hug. Jon hugs her tightly in return.

 

“You haven’t been waiting long, have you?” Jon asks as he peels his outer layers off and slides into the seat across the table from her.

 

Arya shakes her head, sending a quick text on her phone, and then smiling at him. “How was the walk through?” She asks as the waitress appears, setting a menu down in front of Jon and waits as he orders himself a Coke.

 

“Good. Elementary wants to add five more classrooms.”

 

Arya shrugs at that. “People here fuck like rabbits to keep warm,” she says and Jon smirks at that. “Speaking of fucking like rabbits, how’s my sister?”

 

“Didn’t you just text her?” Jon guesses.

 

“Yes,” Arya doesn’t deny it. For sisters who grew up, not being one another’s biggest fan – to put it lightly, now, as adults, Arya and Sansa text one another throughout the day, every day, keeping each other informed on their daily lives. Jon sometimes wonder if they ever talk about him and what they say and then he wonders if he’s being paranoid about wondering if they talk about him. “But that’s still not giving me your opinion of how she is.”

 

Now, Jon frowns a little. “Why do you think she’s not alright? Did she say something? Is something wrong?”

 

“Jesus, Snow. Take it down a notch. I was just asking. Is she driving you crazy with wedding planning? You are aware she’s been planning this wedding since she was six and this wedding to _you_ since she was eighteen.”

 

Jon’s back to smiling. Just thinking about the wedding is a sure-fire way to get him to always smile.

 

Arya groans at the sight. It may be shocking to some people who don’t know Arya Stark whatsoever, but weddings are not her thing. At all. Jon knows that Gendry knows that and the man seems perfectly fine with it. Ned and Catelyn have accepted the fact that their youngest daughter will probably just choose to be with Gendry for the rest of her life without the marriage and the wedding. Jon has no idea why Arya is so averse to them, but she is and there’s no convincing her otherwise.

 

“Actually, she’s pretty calm about the whole thing. She still doesn’t believe me that I want to be involved.”

 

“And that surprises you?” Arya raises an eyebrow at that.

 

The waitress returns with Jon’s Coke and a refill of one for Arya and they both take a moment to order bowls of the cream of cauliflower soup.

 

“I keep telling her that I want to make all of the decisions with her.”

 

“And you have to keep telling her,” Arya shrugs. “I don’t know if you know this, Jon-” she begins and that lets Jon knows that this is something he should definitely know. “But Sansa has plenty of issues she’s still working through and one of them is getting used to having a _good_ man in her life who wants to actually be there.”

 

Jon doesn’t say anything to that. He _is_ quite aware of that. Ramsay may be long dead, but that doesn’t mean that he’s completely gone from Sansa’s life. Even with therapy sessions and support group meetings she attends, Ramsay still left behind plenty of damage that Sansa still works her hardest to work through – and she tries to do so without asking Jon for any help.

 

The waitress returns, setting their bowls of soup down in front of them with a promise to check on them in another few minutes before leaving them alone so they can begin to eat.

 

“Have you told her yet?” Arya asks.

 

Jon opens his mouth to respond, but decides not to speak and instead, he just shakes his head.

 

Arya sighs, impatient. “ _Are_ you going to tell her?”

 

“I will,” Jon quickly assures her – and himself, if he’s being honest. “Of course I’m going to tell her. I just… I’m waiting for the right moment.”

 

“Is there actually a right moment? Sansa, I didn’t get this scar in a pub fight and I only have one kidney. There. See? Easy.”

 

Jon manages to stop himself from rolling his eyes. “I just can’t spring that on her. Maybe I can take her out to eat – just the two of us – and then, I can start asking questions about her medical history-”

 

Arya interrupts with a snort. “Real romantic there, Snow. Candlelight, music, medical history conversations.”

 

“Fine. I’ll think of something else,” Jon concedes.

 

“Before the honeymoon.”

 

“Before the honeymoon,” Jon agrees. “Obviously before the honeymoon.”

 

Arya looks at him, quiet for a moment. “Are you worried she’s not going to marry you once she finds out that a bit of you is missing?”

 

“No.” _Yes_.

 

He hates himself for thinking that – for even a second. Sansa loves him. Deeply and completely and so he doesn’t have two kidneys. Sansa will have her questions, of course, but she won’t leave him because of it. He knows that despite what his subconscious tries to tell him otherwise. He’ll have to get dialysis when he’s a bit older – no way around that – but plenty of people get dialysis and there are plenty of people, too, who live perfectly normal, healthy with just one kidney.

 

“Good, because I would smack you if you think my sister is that shallow,” Arya quips. “Just tell her, Jon, and stop being an idiot. You’ll feel a lot better once you do.”

 

Jon doesn’t argue with that. He knows Arya is right. He’s just being an idiot. A scared idiot.

 

Sansa loves him and she still loves him after all of this time and all of the idiotic things he has already done to her and to them both. She knows that he’s _killed_ someone. No matter what he does or tells her, Sansa will keep loving him. He shouldn’t doubt that. He doesn’t doubt that.

 

He just knows that – like Sansa is still scared when it comes to certain things – Jon is just as scared himself.

 

Maybe he should tell Sansa that, too.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to work on the next chapter of "Castle Black Bar", but I have Sirius radio and basically listen to nothing, but the Beatles channel. Driving to work yesterday, I heard both "Baby, It's You" and "Maxwell's Silver Hammer" and I took it as a sign to work on this one instead. 
> 
> In the next chapter, we have Jon and Robb going to an AA meeting together, more wedding planning, and more thought concerning Stannis Baratheon and Snow Construction. THANK YOU so much for reading!!


	5. Five

…

 

**Five.**

When Jon first began going to AA meetings in one of the rooms in the lower level of Winterfell University’s Health Science Building, there was a table of day-old doughnuts and a pot of freshly-brewed coffee. That was five years ago and that has slowly changed. Now, somehow, it’s become something of a potluck. The recovering alcoholics and the court-ordered to attend alcoholics of Wintertown and surrounding areas meet every week and share their stories of struggling sobriety while eating bowls of chili and plates of tuna casserole and chocolate chip cookies.

 

“Are those Sansa’s lemon bars?” Robb asks as he picks Jon up for the meeting and Jon slips into the front passenger seat, a glass covered dish in his hands.

 

“Yeah,” Jon mumbles.

 

He told Sansa that she didn’t have to make anything for his meeting, but she hadn’t listened. She told him that she wanted to and nothing Jon had said had mattered. He doesn’t like the idea of his fiancée baking and cooking anything for him to take to his AA meetings – because Sansa is marrying a man who goes to AA meetings every Monday of every week. It’s bad enough, in Jon’s opinion, that he has made decisions in his life that have caused him to go to these meetings every week. He doesn’t need Sansa to be involved with them as well.

 

Jon turns his head now and looks out his window. The front door is still open and Sansa is standing at the screen door, warm light from the living room, spilling around her, making her face difficult to see in the dark, but somehow, Jon knows that she’s smiling at him as she lifts a hand in a wave. Robb honks his horn once and Jon lifts his hand as well in a farewell as Robb then pulls out of the driveway.

 

Robb comes with Jon to nearly every meeting, but it’s different with Robb. Robb has been with him through this whole thing; has seen Jon at his absolute bottom. He had once told Robb that he didn’t have to come to these meetings with him and Robb had given him a look as if he had never been more insulted by something. Jon has never brought it up again and silently, he’s grateful beyond words that Robb always comes with him because sometimes, still, after all of this time, Jon feels a nervous energy knotting in his chest before walking down those stairs and entering the meeting room.

 

“What do we have here?” Gilly asks as Jon finds a spot on the table for the glass container and gently setting it down, he then pries the lid back.

 

“My sister makes the best lemon bars in the world,” Robb boasts with pride. He then gasps. “Marc’s brought in his wife’s chicken and dumplings.” And with that, Robb’s gone.

 

Jon looks over the food already laid out and then looks to Gilly as she takes a lemon bar for herself.

 

He met Gilly four years ago, when she attended her first meeting; the same night that Jon stood up to receive his one-year sober chip. Gilly had spoken a bit that first meeting – introducing herself and telling a bit of her story – having a terrible relationship with her father and drinking as a way to escape it and even when she met her husband, Sam, she still drank. It was only when she became pregnant – with now four-year-old Little Sam – that she knew that she had to make a change.

 

At the end of the first meeting, she had asked Jon if maybe he wouldn’t mind being her sponsor. Jon had hesitated for a moment – only because he had yet to be someone’s sponsor – but he had already taken a liking to Gilly and he wanted to help her as much as he could. And over the years, Jon has gotten quite close to Gilly, Samwell and little Sam Tarly.

 

Gilly lets out a soft moan as she takes her first bite of lemon bar. “When do I get to meet her?” She asks Jon once she has chewed and swallowed. “I’m beginning to think that you don’t want her to meet any of us.” And she’s smiling good-naturedly as she says it, but both seem to know her words are quite close to the truth.

 

“We were going over the guest list for the wedding and you are invited,” Jon says as he helps himself to a bit of the tuna casserole that Gilly makes every Monday for these meetings.

 

He knows Sansa would agree within a second to come with him to one of these meetings if he ever asked her if she would like to come, but Jon can’t see himself ever asking her. It’s different for him. He may be sober now and hasn’t had a drink in years, but he will always be an alcoholic. He’s a drunk who spends his Monday nights with other drunks. This will never be a place for Sansa.

 

“Thank you,” Gilly smiles warmly. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

 

Jon picks up a plastic fork and looks to Gilly as she takes another lemon bar for herself. Maybe he can talk with Sansa about inviting Gilly and Sam over for dinner one night. He hasn’t fully explained his relationship with the Tarly’s – only that he knows Gilly through these meetings – but he knows that Sansa would be more than happy to host an evening so she can know them better before the wedding. And Little Sam and Brandon are the same age. Maybe they could be friends as well.

 

The man who runs the meetings, Bowen Marsh, calls them all to take their seats then, before Jon can say anything, and he goes to sit down in one of the metal folding chairs with his tuna casserole, grabbing a bottle of water on his way, and Gilly sits down in the chair next to him. Jon breaks into a smile when Robb returns and settles himself down into the chair on the other side of Jon, his plate piled with food.

 

“Got enough there?” Jon asks him.

 

“Never,” Robb smiles in return before digging into his helping of chicken and dumplings.

 

“You know, people think you come here just for the free food,” Jon tells his best friend.

 

Robb just keeps on smiling. “They’re not wrong.”

 

“Jon,” Bowen says from behind the podium in the front and Jon snaps to attention. “It’s been a while since you’ve shared. Would you like to start us out tonight?”

 

Jon hesitates for a moment and then gives a nod, standing up and taking a quick chug of water. He sets his plate down on his chair and then makes his way to the front. Bowen gives him a smile and shakes his hand and then steps aside so Jon can take his place behind the podium.

 

It’s a small meeting that night – just ten of them, plus Robb. There’s another meeting on Wednesdays – that’s the one Tormund goes to – and sometimes, one meeting is far more crowded than the other.

 

“Hello. I’m Jon and I’m an alcoholic,” Jon begins.

 

“Hello, Jon,” everyone greets in return.

 

Jon pauses, wondering what he should talk about tonight. He doesn’t have a problem sharing. He’s just still working on getting his thoughts straight before being able to talk with anyone about them.

 

“Um,” he clears his throat. “I’m getting married and my fiancée, she knows I have a drinking problem and she knows that I come here every Monday. She’s actually the one who made the lemon bars even though I told her that she didn’t have to.” Jon pauses again. “I’m trying to keep her away from all of this, to be honest. I know I won’t be able to do that forever, but I’m scared that if she knows everything, she won’t marry me.”

 

Jon stares down at the podium rather than anyone sitting in front of him – especially Robb. He doesn’t have to look to know that Robb is staring at him.

 

“And I know that’s not true. I tell myself over and over again because I know I can tell Sansa anything and she’ll still love me and want to marry me. I just… I get all caught up in my head and I can’t get out of there. I just can’t imagine _why_ she would still want to marry me if she knew…” _Everything_ , he finishes silently.

 

He takes a deep breath.

 

“Thank you for letting me share.”

 

There is soft applause and Jon leaves the podium, stopping by his chair only to get his coat and still not looking at Robb, he leaves the room as Bowen asks for someone else to share.

 

He is sitting on the bench outside the building, smoking a cigarette when Robb arrives a few minutes later. Robb tightens his scarf around his neck and without a word, he sits down on the bench next to Jon. Jon doesn’t say anything and keeps smoking and Robb doesn’t say anything as he sits back, tilting his face upwards and looking at the night sky.

 

Jon is the one to speak first, dropping his butt onto the ground and grinding it beneath his toe. “I know you think I’m an idiot,” he says, sitting back as well, shoving his hands into his coat pockets.

 

“Hmmmm,” Robb says and says nothing else.

 

“ _I_ know I’m an idiot.”

 

“That’s better,” Robb replies and then turns his head to look at Jon. “I know you don’t mean to, but with you not telling Sansa about everything, it just makes it look like you think she’s spoiled or shallow and she only cares that you’re not some picture-perfect man. She already _knows_ you’re far from perfect, Jon.”

 

“I know,” Jon sighs.

 

“If she still wanted to be with you after what we did to Ramsay…”

 

“I know,” Jon says again.

 

Jon has _killed_ a man. Sansa knows that he’s killed a man. And she still said “yes” when he asked if she would marry him and let him be a part of hers and her son’s lives.

 

“And if you can tell her everything that you did to Ramsay, you should be able to tell her everything.”

 

“Yeah,” Jon says, but he still doesn’t sound completely certain.

 

And that just begins to anger him because _why_ isn’t he completely certain? Robb’s right. Jon knows he’s right.

 

Sansa loves him and she will always keep loving him. Honestly, with him not being able to tell her absolutely everything, it almost seems like he’s the one who doesn’t love her as much as she loves him and that just pisses him off so much at himself, it makes him want to do one thing. But since he can’t do that, he instead pulls out another cigarette from the pack in his pocket and lights it.

 

He loves Sansa more than he loves himself. He’s loved her since he was eighteen and loved her for two years in silence until he was finally able to be with her and he loved her for those years that they were apart. Now that they are together once again, happy and planning their wedding, Jon thinks he loves her more now than he ever did. But maybe what he said in there is true. He seems to be unable to tell Sansa because it’s not as if he thinks she won’t marry him anymore.

 

Maybe he can’t seem to tell her because _he_ thinks she shouldn’t marry him.

 

…

 

Robb drops him off at home two hours later and thanking Robb as he always does, Jon takes the now-empty glass container and wishes Robb a good-night before leaving the car and heading up the steps. Sansa has left the porch light on for him and he pulls his keys out, unlocking the front door.

 

It’s quiet. At eight-thirty, Brandon is already tucked in bed, asleep. A lamp in the living room is on, the light above the sink is on and he can see a lamp on in Sansa’s sunroom. Ghost and Lady don’t immediately bound up to him in greetings so Jon figures they must be out in the backyard. Jon sets the glass container down on the end table next to the couch for the moment so he can hang his coat up in the closet and take off his boots. He then locks the door behind him, turns the porch light off and sets the alarm.

 

“Hey.”

 

Jon turns and Sansa stands there in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen. She is in her pajamas – fleece pajama pants with cupcakes on them and a grey sweater that used to be his. He knows that when they go to bed, she will take the pants off and just sleep in the sweater. Her hair is down and her face is washed clean of makeup and she looks absolutely beautiful. Jon swears. Sometimes, even after all of this time, he looks at her and there’s a moment or two where he forgets how to breathe.

 

“Hey,” Jon greets in return and gives her a small smile, lifting up the container. “All gone.”

 

That makes Sansa practically beam and he carries the container to her. Sansa takes it and then leans in, giving him a light kiss on his lips. “I’ll be sure to make more next Monday then,” she says before turning to go and wash out the container before placing it in the dishwasher.

 

As she stands at the sink, running the water, Jon comes to stand behind her, his arms slipping around her waist and his chin resting on her shoulder. He can feel the curve of her jaw as she smiles and Jon turns his head, closing his eyes and inhaling the fruity scent of her hair.

 

“I love you so much, Sansa,” he whispers to her.

 

Sansa turns her head so she can look at him and Jon lifts his head so he can look at her, too.

 

“I love you, too,” she whispers to him in return and Jon leans in, kissing the corner of her jaw.

 

“And I would love it if you made more lemon bars for my next meeting,” he says.

 

The smile stretches slowly across Sansa’s face and the sight of it makes Jon smile, too.

 

…

 

“What do you think of these?” Sansa asks, turning the thick magazine towards Jon and pointing to a light pink, floppy looking, flower. “They’re peonies,” she says and Jon leans in to take a closer look. “They don’t have to be this shade of pink. Peonies come in so many colors. If we look, we can find the perfect one,” Sansa continues. “And I don’t want to overwhelm the wedding with pink. We need the sage as well.”

 

“Pink is your favorite and so are peonies so we’re going to have pink peonies at our wedding,” Jon tells her and taking the magazine with him, he sits back in his chair.

 

“Green peonies might be a bit tricky to find,” Catelyn speaks up from where she stands at the stove, stirring the chili she is making for dinner that night. “We will probably have to look more south for those. Highgarden maybe.”

 

Sansa looks to her mom. “I can ask Margaery. She’ll know.”

 

_CRASH!!_

All three lift their heads and look towards the direction where that noise has just come from.

 

A beat passes.

 

“We’re okay!” Ned then calls out from down the hallway.

 

“Ned Stark, you better not have broken anything!” Cat calls out to her husband.

 

“We didn’t!” Ned answers back and they all hear Brandon giggling.

 

Cat sighs. “Sansa, do you mind, dear?”

  
Sansa shakes her head and gets up to take her place at the stove to resume stirring so Catelyn can go investigate what her husband and grandson have just gotten themselves up to.

 

Jon turns to the next page. It’s amazing to him. This magazine is at least a hundred pages thick and each page is filled with nothing, but flowers, possible centerpieces and plate designs one can have at their wedding reception. He supposed he knew that the wedding industry is a massive one, but he never a reason to really care about it one way or another until now when he’s planning his own.

 

“Jon, we don’t have to do everything that I want. We’re getting married and it’s about compromise. So if you don’t like the peonies, we will pick another flower we both love,” Sansa tells him.

 

Jon smirks a little. “Sansa, I know this is going to be hard to believe, but I honestly have no opinion on flowers. Peonies are going to be fine with me. I probably won’t even notice the flowers.”

 

“You said you wanted to be involved in all of the planning.”

 

“And I do,” he smiles. “Just tell me what flower you want and I’ll pick that one, too. Flowers aren’t the same to me as where our reception is or what’s on the menu or what song our first dance is to.”

 

“As an employee of the University, Nan said I could speak with Mr. Seaworth. I might be able to convince him to let us have the reception in one of the ballrooms in the student union if we take a look at it and like it.”

 

Jon thinks that over for a moment. He knows the ballrooms. They are on the third floor of the student union – where students really aren’t allowed to go – and the rooms are used to benefits, fundraisers and dinners with donors and alumni.

 

“That could work,” Jon says and Sansa smiles. “Do you mind setting it up and just let me know so I can meet you there whenever we can see them?”

 

Sansa doesn’t answer, but she smiles and abandoning the pot of chili for the moment, she comes back to the table and bending down, she kisses Jon; a kiss Jon more than happily returns, one of his hands lifting to her cheek and he smiles when he feels her lips curve into a smile against his.

 

“Mama! Jon!” Brandon exclaims, scurrying into the kitchen. “Grandma Cat says she’s gonna kill Grandpa!”

 

Sansa and Jon both look at the little boy – who seems a bit _too_ excited over that bit of news – and Jon grins, leaning over and hefting Brandon up, setting him down in his lap. Sansa smiles and kisses Brandon head.

 

“And why is Grandma going to kill Grandpa?” Sansa asks, trying to tame some of Brandon’s auburn curls.

 

Jon sometimes (often) wonders if his and Sansa’s next baby will have auburn or black curly hair. He had always been crap at science and genetic classes in school.

 

“We were playing trains and he broke something,” Brandon says, still smiling as if it’s one of the funniest things to ever happen to him.

 

“He broke something or you broke something?” Jon asks.

 

“Grandpa broke it!” Brandon exclaims, looking back and forth between Sansa and Jon.

 

“Hmmm,” Sansa taps her chin, doing her best to not smile. “I’m not sure if I believe you.”

 

“Honest, mama!”

 

Sansa laughs lightly and kisses his head once more before returning to the stove and the pot of chili.

 

“Brandon, what do you think of these?” Jon asks, bringing the wedding magazine closer towards them and he shows the little boy the different flowers. He points to the pink peonies.

 

Brandon’s brow furrows. “It’s pink.”

 

Jon grins. “It is. You don’t like pink?”

 

Brandon just gives him a look, frowning, and Jon lets out a laugh.

 

“Jon,” Cat enters the kitchen, sighing. “I am afraid I am going to have to kill my husband, but he did ask that I hold off on his imminent death so you two can speak first.”

 

Jon smiles at that and stands up, lifting Brandon in his arms. “Thank you, Catelyn.”

 

He has known this woman since he wasn’t quite as young as Brandon, but still a young boy, and the woman stepped in and helped raise and take care of him with his own mother working all hours. Jon loves her like she is another mother and she loves Jon as if he’s another son. But despite all that, he seems to never be able to bring himself to call her Cat.

 

He gives Brandon a kiss on the head and tickles his sides, the boy laughing and squirming, and Jon grins, bending down and putting Brandon in his feet.

 

Jon picks up the manila envelope with the papers Stannis and Robert Baratheon had mailed him and he catches Sansa looking at him. When he looks at her as well, she gives him a smile and Jon smiles back at her, feeling nervous as he then goes down the hallway towards Ned’s office.

 

The door is open, but Jon knocks nonetheless. Ned is sitting behind his desk and he lifts his head from his computer screen. Ned instantly smiles when he sees who it is and he stands up.

 

“Jon.”

 

Jon takes that as his cue to enter. He hesitates a moment and then decides to close the door behind him. Ned lifts his eyebrows at that, but doesn’t comment and comes around his desk.

 

“Last order of business before my wife kills me,” Ned smiles.

 

Jon smiles a little, too, and crosses the office, holding out the envelope for Ned to take, which he does. They stand there and Ned takes the papers from the envelope, skimming the top letter. He gets through just the first paragraph, his eyebrows raised again, before he stops reading and lifts his eyes to Jon.

 

“Have you talked with Sansa about this?” Ned asks. “Selling your business, merging it with another, that’s something that can definitely impact your life together.”

 

Jon shakes his head. “No, not yet. I will talk with her. I just… I just haven’t yet.”

 

“Hmmm. That seems to be becoming quite normal for you,” Ned comments and Jon blinks at him.

 

Has Robb said something to him? Has Arya? Or has Sansa confided to her parents that Jon seems to not be talking to her as much as he knows he should?

 

But Ned doesn’t say anything further on that and he heads to the couch in front of the fireplace, taking the papers with them so he can read through the Baratheon offer to Jon and Snow Construction more thoroughly before offering his advice.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for the reads, kudos and comments!


	6. Note

Good morning, everyone.

 

I wanted to let everyone know that I will be deleting this story. I am going to do so in a couple of days – giving everyone a chance to see this note before the story disappears completely from the site. I have really been struggling with writing the chapters and this story is not turning out the way I had wanted nor had hoped and I have found that people are beginning to dislike Jon all over again in this story after I built his character and his and Sansa’s relationship back up in _Baby, It’s You_. That was not my intent at all and I feel like if I continue writing _Oh! Darling_ , I will be destroying everything I wrote so hard in the first story.

 

THANK YOU so much to those who have read and commented on this story. I can’t express how much I appreciate it. I just think that I really should have not attempted to write a sequel to a story that was so popular and loved by so many of you. I will be continuing _Castle Black Bar_ and then I will see what else my muse has in mind!

 

Thank you so, so much again to everyone! I still consider myself fairly new to the Jon/Sansa fandom and I have only found the kindest of people here.


	7. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I heard _Oh! Darling_ on the radio and I take signs given to me very seriously. I have sat on this story for the past couple of days, really thinking about it, and with everything I have put Sansa and Jon through already, I think we all deserve to see them get married.

…

 

**Six.**

 

_Hidden deep inside the jungle,_

_There’s hippos! There’s hippos!_

_Chloe, Zoe, Mick and Vic!_

_They’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

 

Jon makes sure that Brandon is comfortable on the couch and has plenty of juice in his sip-a-cup and leaving him to his episode of _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ , Jon leaves the living room and in the doorway of his and Sansa’s bedroom, he pauses. Sansa is sitting, cross-legged on the bed, folding laundry from the basket next to her and she’s humming the theme to Brandon’s television show quietly. Jon smiles a little. He wonders if she even realizes that she’s doing it.

 

She senses him standing there after a moment because she lifts her eyes and smiles the instant she sees him. Christ, her smile. He gets to look at that smile of hers, directed towards him, for the rest of their lives. Jon can’t imagine himself ever getting tired of it.

 

“Hey,” Jon speaks first. “Can I talk to you about something?”

 

“Yes,” Sansa answers instantly and Jon knows he isn’t imagining how relieved she sounds from his question.

 

He steps into the room and Sansa moves aside some of the folded laundry as Jon goes to his dresser, opening the top drawer and pulling out the manila envelope from Baratheon Projects. He then comes to sit down in the space she has cleared for him and he takes a deep breath. Without a word, he hands her the envelope.

 

Sansa gives him a small smile and then pulls the papers from the envelope. He waits as she reads the first one, his palms rubbing back and forth along his jean-clad thighs. He doesn’t know why he feels nervous. The emotion doesn’t make sense to him. This is Sansa. There’s never a reason to be nervous around her.

 

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “Your father suggested I go down to King’s Landing to speak with Stannis and Robert in person.”

 

Sansa lifts her head. “That doesn’t sound like bad advice.”

 

“Would you come with me?”

 

“To King’s Landing?” She asks, her eyes slightly wide as if surprised.

 

“Only if you want to,” he quickly adds. “I just… I could really use someone down there with me and I… I need you down there with me.”

 

Sansa smiles faintly at that and moving the papers aside, she leans forward, sliding her arms around his shoulders. She rests her forehead to his and Jon can’t help, but close his eyes at the contact. “I would love to come with you,” she tells him then and he smiles a little, lifting his hand, his thumb swiping along her cheek.

 

“I can get us a room in a hotel with a pool,” Jon suggests and that makes Sansa smile.  

 

“Bring Brandon with us or leave him here with my parents?” Sansa inquires.

 

Jon’s first reaction is to say that perhaps, they could have a nice weekend – just the two of them – but he is able to swallow that down before he can say it. He loves Brandon like he’s his own and he doesn’t want Sansa to think that he doesn’t and if they all go down to King’s Landing together, it can be a little family vacation. Brandon has never been in a swimming before. Jon already knows that the little boy would absolutely love staying in a hotel with a pool and it’s not like he and Sansa will _never_ have alone time-

 

“We can decide later,” Sansa then says as if she can read his mind and gives him a small smile.

 

“What do you think I should do? About their proposal?” He then asks.

 

“What is your gut telling you?” Sansa asks, pulling back to look to his face, but her arms still remaining around his shoulders, and he turns a bit more towards her, his hand coming to a rest on her knee.

 

Jon shakes his head. “I don’t even know that. And I…” he pauses and swallows. “I didn’t want to tell you until I came to a decision. I didn’t want to bother you with it.”

 

Sansa frowns and moves back a little bit more. “Jon…” she says his name and then nothing else. Jon doesn’t know what to say so he stays quiet as well, looking at her as Sansa keeps looking at him. “Talking to me about things in your life, it’s not bothering me. I _want_ to be a part of your life.”

 

“You are,” Jon instantly responds, but Sansa shakes her head.

 

“I’m not though. I know you keep things from me. I know there are things you don’t want to tell me and I know everyone has their secrets, but if we’re going to have a life together, we should be able to talk about those things that involve that life together.”

 

He knows she’s right. He _knows_. He doesn’t know what the hell is going on with him. Having Sansa is all he’s ever wanted. And now, not only does he have her, but they’re getting married and she’s right. This isn’t just his life anymore. He doesn’t want it to be. It’s going to be _their_ life together. It already is.

 

He exhales a deep breath. “I’m sorry. I just… I’m an idiot,” he decides and Sansa smiles, not arguing with that.

 

Jon smiles a little, too, and then leans in, giving her a peck on the lips before falling backwards, his head finding a pillow on a pile of folded socks beneath him. Sansa reads the cover letter over one more time before placing the packet carefully on the nightstand and resuming folding the remainder of the laundry.

 

It still amazes Jon just how many shirts Brandon goes through.

 

“They would let me keep the Snow Construction name. It would just be a division of Baratheon Projects,” Jon begins thinking out loud. “All of the billing and invoices would be handled by Baratheon Projects down South. I don’t know if I like that part. I hate paperwork, but at least it’s in front of me and I can look at it myself instead of letting some person I’ve never seen or met before handle my customers.”

 

“Would they handle payroll, too?” Sansa asks, knowing just how much he loathes doing payroll.

 

“Yeah,” Jon nods and then sighs heavily, staring up at the ceiling.

 

“So the invoices to your customers would still say Snow Construction, but the remit to address would be Baratheon Projects?” Sansa asks, wanting to make sure she understands.

 

“That’s right.”

 

“And what about Tormund, Val and Edd?”

 

“They’d stay with me if they would want to stay.” Jon turns his head on the socks so he can look at Sansa. “Do you think they’ll want to stay with me if I join up with a bigger company from the South?”

 

Sansa gives him a small smile and shrugs her shoulders. “Sounds like you’ll have to talk to them, too.”

 

Jon groans before he can stop himself and Sansa laughs softly.

 

“What else?” She then wonders.

 

“Well, there is one reason why I’m even considering Stannis and Robert’s offer,” he admits and then pushes himself up on his elbows, still looking at Sansa. “With Baratheon Projects, I’d be able to have access to some really good healthcare plans. Plans that would cover you, me and Brandon.”

 

“Oh,” Sansa says, looking at Jon and he knows she replied like that because she doesn’t know what else to say at the moment. He knows that she already has good health insurance through her library job.

 

“I was thinking…” he gathers himself for a moment. Sansa’s right. He needs to talk to her. This is about their life together after all. And without her, it would just be his life and isn’t he tired of it being just his life? “With better health insurance that can cover all three of us, you’d be able to leave the university.”

 

Sansa’s brow is furrowed now. “Why would I leave the university?” She wonders.

 

Jon sits himself completely up once again. He makes sure he keeps looking at her though he feels a bit nervous, speaking with her about this. He doesn’t want her to think that he’s pressuring her into anything or making decisions for her. He just wants her to know that he thinks about these kinds of things; things he really needs to talk with her about since they directly involve her.

 

“You don’t have to,” he is quick to say. “Obviously. I don’t want you to think that I think that. I just… I’ve been thinking that if I have good enough insurance that covers all of us, you’d be able to stay home with Brandon and when we have a baby… and you’d be able to focus on and have more time for your designs.”

 

Sansa doesn’t say anything and keeps looking at him. Jon thinks of something else to say – and fast.

 

“I know how much you love working at the university and it’s such a good job,” Jon is quick to say. “I don’t want you think that after we’re married, I don’t want you to work anymore. I just know how much you love making clothes and how _good_ you are at it and I know you wish you had more time-”

 

Sansa cuts him off then with a hand on his cheek and her head leaning in, her lips find his.

 

Before he can even fully process the kiss though, she is pulling back once more.

 

She gives him a faint, warm smile. “I love you very much,” she whispers.

 

Jon exhales a sigh as if he’s never heard anything better; and he’s thinking that that might be the truth.

 

He leans in this time and rests his forehead to hers. “I love you, too.”

 

“Thank you for talking with me,” she then says, still whispering.

 

He swallows thickly. “I have more to tell you, but…”

 

She gives him that same smile – so much love and understanding in the curve of her lips, Jon finds himself, once again, wondering what the hell he has done to deserve this woman in his life; someone who loves him and wants to spend the rest of her life with him and thinks that he’s a good man.

 

“Promise you’ll tell me as soon as you’re ready,” Sansa says.

 

“I promise,” Jon readily vows and Sansa kisses him again. This time, Jon is ready for it, his lips pressing back to hers and his hand slipping to the back of her head.

 

He wants to tell her that he hopes she’ll tell him more things one of these days, too. Only when she’s ready. But he wants to know. About her time with Ramsay, about her scars, about everything.

 

_But they’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

_And they’re very best, best friends!_

_They’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

_And they’ll be friends until the end!_

 

Brandon marches into the bedroom then, singing loudly, and Jon and Sansa’s lips separate so they can both turn their heads to look at him.

 

“Is your episode finished, sweetling?” Sansa asks him and then glances to the clock. “There should be more left,” she looks back to Brandon.

 

Brandon shakes his head, drinking his juice from his straw. “Nope! Seen it!”

 

Jon smiles a little at that. “Is there an episode you haven’t seen?” Brandon just smiles as if he understands the teasing and then comes to the bed, lifting his arms, and Jon hefts him up, setting him down in the space between him and Sansa. “I read something somewhere,” he begins to say and gives Sansa a smile before looking down to Brandon, the boy looking up at him with open curiosity in his blue eyes, still holding his sip-a-cup and drinking through the straw. “I read that the _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ hippos are going on tour and guess what? They’re coming to Wintertown next month for a live show,” he says.

 

“Oh, no,” Sansa murmurs under her breath even though Jon knows she’s been well aware of this since the instant a live show of Brandon’s favorite cartoon was announced and Jon nearly grins at that, his smile spreading across his face.

 

Brandon gasps, his eyes widen to almost a comical size. “A show?” He then gasps as if he can’t say it too loud or it will make it not true. His head whips to Sansa. “Can we see it, mama?”

 

“A _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ live show? We’re going to _have_ to see it,” Sansa smiles at him.

 

“Yay!” Brandon exclaims and slides down from the bed back to the floor.

 

_Hidden deep inside the jungle,_

_There’s hippos! There’s hippos!_

 

The boy begins singing at the top of his lungs as he marches from the bedroom again, back into the living room. Jon watches him go with a smile and then looks back to Sansa, who is also smiling as she finishes folding the last of the laundry. She unfolds her legs and then pulls herself from the bed so she can start putting the clothes away, but before she can take a step away, Jon loosely takes hold of her wrist, turning her back towards him. Sansa blushes and smiles as she comes to stand between his spread knees and Jon lets go of her wrist so he can wrap both of his arms around her waist, hauling her body to his.

 

“It’s getting better all the time,” he says, looking up to her face, and Sansa instantly smiles.

 

“I love when you woo me with Beatles lyrics,” she says with laughter in her voice and Jon smiles, too. She slips her arms around his shoulders and leans down, pressing her lips to his. “Ready for more wedding planning?” She then asks.

 

“Yes,” he murmurs, beginning to lean backwards onto the bed and pulling her with him.

 

“Jon,” Sansa laughs and Jon feels warm all over just from that sound. “Brandon is right outside,” she reminds him and Jon mumbles something – not even he is sure what – as he kisses the side of her neck. He hears the shaky breath she exhales at the feel of his lips, but then her hands go to his chest. “There’s always tonight,” she says quietly with a hint of regret, and she begins to push herself off of him.

 

“Tonight,” Jon repeats on a sigh, letting her go and sitting up again.

 

The familiar thought of asking Ned and Catelyn to babysit enters his mind as he stands and follows Sansa from the bedroom. Ghost and Lady are in the backyard, both at the door, ready to be let in and Jon goes to do it as Sansa takes Brandon’s cup and then comes into the kitchen to get him more juice.

 

“Do you just want to order a pizza for dinner tonight?” Sansa asks, returning the jug of apple juice to the shelf in the refrigerator, looking to Jon as she screws the lid back onto Brandon’s cup.

 

Instead of waiting for her to come back though, Brandon comes into the kitchen, his hands already holding up for it. Sansa hands it to him and even though the television in the living room is still playing his cartoon, Brandon crawls beneath the kitchen table where one of his blankets and some of his toys are.

 

“That sounds good to me,” Jon says, finishing filling the dog bowls with fresh kibble. He then carries the massive bowl both share to the sink to get them fresh water.

 

He hears his cell phone on the kitchen table ding and he goes to see who it is. He hopes it’s not work. Snow Construction has a couple of ongoing jobs right now, but it’s five o’clock on a Thursday and none of his current jobs need that kind of round-the-clock attention. Thankfully though, he sees that it’s none of his customers. Instead, it’s a text from his mother.

 

_MOM: You, Sansa and Brandon for dinner this Friday?_

Jon reads it and then lifts his head to Sansa. She is leaning back against the counter, reading through the paper menu of their favorite pizza place that they keep clipped to the side of the refrigerator. He knows she has her therapy sessions on Friday evenings. Sometimes, after those, she just wants to crawl into bed.

 

Jon swallows. “My mom is wondering if we want dinner with her and Arthur this Friday.”

 

Sansa lifts her eyes from the menu to look at him. “That sounds nice,” she smiles. “If you’re going somewhere other than their house, let me know and I’ll meet you after my appointment.”

 

Jon smiles a little, relieved. “If you’re up for it. If not, Brandon and me can go. You don’t have to.”

 

“We’ll see on Friday,” Sansa agrees. “Now, one medium cheese and one medium green pepper and mushroom?” She asks, already picking up her cell phone.

 

“Works for me. Work for you, Brandon?” Jon asks.

 

Brandon pauses in his talking to himself. “Yep!” He responds from underneath the table before proceeding to play with his trains once again.

 

As Sansa calls in their order, Jon texts his mom back with a confirmation for this Friday. She responds with several wide-smiled emoji’s. Jon smiles, too, before going to put his phone away in the bedroom so he doesn’t look at it for the rest of the night.

 

On the way back to the kitchen, he goes through the living room to turn off the television – mainly so he doesn’t have to hear the _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ theme song anymore and he grabs one of Sansa’s wedding magazines from the coffee table.

 

“Now, before you think I’m crazy, I’m going to need you to stay quiet and let me defend myself,” Jon says, stepping back into the kitchen.

 

Sansa gives him a look. “I don’t think you’re crazy.”

 

Jon can tell she’s trying not to smile though as she says it. Jon smiles a little himself.

 

“Now, our wedding reception, I know we’re going for nice, but not overly fancy. Correct?”

 

“Correct,” Sansa confirms, taking a bottle of water from the refrigerator. She holds it up for Jon, but he shakes his head and sitting down at the table, he begins flipping to the page he marked as soon as he came upon it among the other pages of flower arrangements and an endless option of white dresses and tuxedos.

 

“Then how do you feel about a burger bar for the reception?” Jon asks.

 

Sansa lifts an eyebrow and twisting the cap from the bottle, she takes a sip of water and sits down in the chair across from his. “A burger bar?”

 

“A burger bar,” Jon repeats. “How many times do you have to serve a slab of meat and a vegetable at a wedding reception? We should do something different.”

 

Finally locating the desired page, he turns the magazine around for Sansa to see and she pulls it closer.

 

“We get a bunch of burgers, turkey burgers, veggie burgers. Every fixing imaginable. Every condiment. It’s a burger bar and people can make them any way they want and eat however many they want,” Jon explains as Sansa reads over the page herself. “It’s something different and something people will remember. What do you think? It’s not too expensive and we’ll get salad and fries, too.”

 

“A burger bar,” Sansa says, lifting her head to look at him.

 

“A burger bar,” Jon confirms.

 

Sansa smiles then. “Okay,” she agrees, leaning back in her chair and taking another sip of water, and it seems as if she hasn’t thought much on it at all.

 

“Yeah?” Jon can’t help, but be surprised. He’s not sure why. They haven’t talked menus yet, but he just imagined Sansa having a wedding reception with five courses and at least one that is eaten with a tiny fork.

 

And it seems as if Sansa can read his mind because she gives him a smile from around the top of her water bottle. She swallows. “Yes. I get my pink peonies. You get your burger bar,” she replies.

 

Jon picks up her hand and presses a warm kiss to the inside palm. Sansa smiles and her cheeks look pink. “I like pink peonies,” Jon then says and considers it a success when the pink of Sansa’s cheeks only deepen.

 

“I like burger bars,” she says in return and he smiles, kissing her palm again.

 

He’s told her about the Baratheon Projects proposal and now the burger bar. He can only hope that when he tells her about his kidney – or lack thereof – it will be just as easy.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to those who have loved this particular "Beatles" world that I have created. I can't promise that I'll be updating as quickly as I did with _Baby, It's You_ , but I can now promise that I won't stop telling this story until we see Jon and Sansa enjoying their burger bar wedding reception.


	8. Seven

…

 

**Seven.**

“I’m sorry,” Sansa says and it sounds like she’s about to burst into tears at any moment.

 

“Stop saying that. There’s no reason for you to be sorry,” Jon says and he wonders if she can hear his frown from over the phone and if she’ll interpret that as him being angry. He doesn’t mean to sound angry. He just wishes that she would stop apologizing because there’s absolutely no reason for it.

 

“I just don’t want your mom and dad to be upset with me. I wanted to see them,” Sansa tells him, her voice still sounding a bit wobbly to him.

 

“Sansa, my mom and Arthur aren’t going anywhere. Trust me, love,” Jon responds. “They’ll invite us over next Friday, too, and the Friday after that. We’ll never be rid of them now.” He says it and he means for it to be a joke and Sansa interprets it as such if the slight breath of laughter that escapes her is an indication. The sound makes Jon smile. “Brandon and I will go and eat dinner with them and you stay home and take a nice long bubble bath.”

 

Sansa is silent on the other end and he knows that she’s thinking about it.

 

“Please tell your mom and Arthur how sorry I am for not being able to come,” Sansa finally speaks again.

 

“Of course,” Jon agrees though honestly, he has no intention of doing that. Apologies are said when a person has done something wrong.

 

When his mom invited them over for dinner this Friday, Jon knew, deep down, that Sansa probably wouldn’t be up for it even as he told his mom that they would be there. He doesn’t know what Sansa and her therapist are talking about during her sessions every Friday evening, but whatever it is lately, Sansa comes home with red-rimmed eyes and a quieter-than-usual voice. He doesn’t know, but he wants to ask. He never does though. Those are her therapy sessions and what she and her therapist talk about is none of his business unless Sansa makes it so. He can only guess though and his one and only guess involves Ramsay.

 

On Fridays, Sansa goes straight to therapy from work and Jon picks Brandon up from the daycare on Winterfell University’s campus and takes him home. Tonight, however, he has picked Brandon up and drove straight to his parents’ house. The plan was for Sansa to meet them there.

 

“How about tomorrow, you, me and Brandon have a pajama day?” Jon suggests.

 

Lyanna comes into the kitchen then where Jon is speaking to Sansa on his cell and she shoos him away from the counter he’s leaning against. Jon pushes himself off and steps away and Lyanna opens the drawer he had just been blocking, pulling out her oven mitts. As he waits for Sansa’s answer, Jon watches his mom open the oven door and carefully pull back the tinfoil that is covering the dish of the chicken she’s baking for dinner.

 

He knows that Sansa and Brandon covet pajama days. They don’t have them every weekend, but when they do, they are their favorite days and days to be cherished. And Jon admits that since moving in and becoming a part of Sansa and Brandon’s family, a day devoted to pajamas, endless television shows and movies and a day of puttering around the house and doing much of nothing, Jon has grown to love pajama days just as much as them.

 

Sansa releases a deep sigh. “That sounds wonderful.”

 

Jon smiles a little. “Take that bubble bath. Brandon and I will be home in a few hours.”

 

“I love you,” she whispers then and even in a voice as quiet as hers right now, Jon feels that familiar warmth spread over his chest that always does when Sansa says those words to him.

 

So much of the time – still – he can’t believe that he has Sansa Stark in his life again, saying those words to him. So much of the time – still – he can’t believe that he’s got her back in his life and that he’s a part of hers.

 

“I love you, too,” Jon tells her back.

 

A few moments later, their call ends and Jon turns, putting his cell phone onto the counter behind him.

 

“Sansa’s not going to be able to make it,” he lets his mom know.

 

“We’ll fix her up a plate of leftovers for you to take to her,” Lyanna says, closing the oven door once more and pulling her mitts off, dropping them onto the counter. “How is she?” She then asks, leaning against the counter that she has pushed Jon from.

 

Lyanna Dayne doesn’t know much. She knows that her son and Sansa were involved when Jon was twenty and Sansa was eighteen and she knows that whatever happened between them, it ended badly; so badly that Jon turned towards endless bottles to help himself deal with it. She saw him through a hospital stay that had aged her about a hundred years, seeing her son in so much pain and at his rock bottom, through the first few difficult months of sobriety – and then the years that came easier – and through the start of his business and seeing how hard he works every single day at everything he does.

 

He doesn’t speak about Sansa’s past and Lyanna knows that Jon won’t even if she asks. In Jon’s opinion – an opinion Lyanna agrees with – it’s not his past to speak of. She had asked about Brandon’s dad, when Jon first told her that Sansa had a son, and all Jon had told her was that he was a bastard who had treated Sansa as terribly as a human could treat another and that he had died before Brandon was born.

 

Lyanna hopes that one day, she and her daughter-in-law will feel close enough to one another for Lyanna to ask her questions and for Sansa to trust her enough to tell her.

 

“She’s just had a bit of a rough day. I told her to stay home and take a bubble bath,” Jon answers and that makes Lyanna smile.

 

“The answer to all problems,” Lyanna agrees. Jon smiles a little and his eyes then drift down, studying the blue and white tiled floor of the kitchen.

 

Lyanna takes the moment to study her son. It’s not the first time she’s thought how grateful she is that he has grown to look absolutely nothing like his sperm donor and although Arthur is not his real father, Lyanna sees more of him in Jon as Jon continues to grow older. Both men are loyal and honorable and like Arthur had done when Jon was a boy, Jon is doing the same as he had – loving a boy who’s not his true son, but is his son in all of the ways that matter the most. 

 

Speaking of, she can hear Arthur’s deep voice rumbling something from the living room and whatever it is that he’s saying, it’s making Brandon giggle, near hysterics.

 

“I love you very much, Jon,” Lyanna speaks the thought in her mind.

 

Jon lifts his head to look at her and he gives her a small smile. “I love you, too,” he says. “I was just thinking…” he trails himself off then and Lyanna waits. She knows her son doesn’t speak much and when he does, he has a tendency to think over each word before they leave his mouth. He shakes his head. “There’s a lot I’m thinking about,” he then admits.

 

“Anything you want to talk about?” Lyanna asks.

 

Jon pauses. “I’m not sure. I’m still trying to figure things out in my head.”

 

“You know I’m here when you are,” she says and he smiles a little again.

 

“I know,” he says with a nod.

 

The oven timer goes off then and Lyanna turns to put her oven mitts back on.

 

“I’ve been thinking that I want a live band for the reception,” Jon suddenly says as he grabs a potholder and Lyanna smiles her thanks as she rests the dish onto it. “I’m sure I can find a good Beatles tribute band.”

 

“I take it Sansa likes the Beatles?”

 

Jon smirks a little. “To put it mildly.”

 

“Arthur and I have been talking and we’d like to help you and Sansa pay for a bit of this wedding. Let us pay for the band if that’s what you decide you want,” Lyanna tells her son.

 

Jon opens his mouth to respond, but is quiet for a moment or two. Ned and Catelyn Stark have already offered to help pay – actually, they want to pay for the whole wedding ceremony – but Sansa has told them that she and Jon will think about it. Jon doesn’t mind if she decides that she doesn’t want her parents to help and if she wants her and Jon to pay for the whole thing themselves. He has money. He’s saved for a rainy day. He doesn’t have that many personal expenses and he can’t think of anything better to spend his money on than a wedding to Sansa.

 

“Thank you. I’ll let you know,” Jon promises.

 

From the living room, they can hear Arthur’s cell phone begin to ring.

 

“Detective Dayne,” he answers.

 

The front door opens and then closes again and they know he has taken the call out to the front porch.

 

“Daddy!” Brandon exclaims, scurrying into the kitchen, and Jon goes completely still.

 

He looks down to the little boy, who is beaming up at him. Jon wonders if Brandon even realizes what he has just called Jon because when he had said it, it had sounded completely natural; as if he’s been calling Jon “Daddy” forever. He’s just standing there, smiling so widely, he’s almost giggling, and Jon swears that his heart stops in his chest.

 

Daddy.

 

Seven Hells, that’s the best word he’s ever heard. He can’t believe it, but he feels like he’s about to cry; just from a two-syllable word. But it’s more than _just_ a two-syllable word. It’s everything.

 

“Hey,” Jon remembers to respond and he smiles, bending down and hefting Brandon up in his arms. “What are you up to?” He asks and he can hear the thickness of emotion in his voice as he speaks.

 

Brandon holds up a pair of silver handcuffs in his hands, giggling. “Wrist!” He then exclaims.

 

Jon smiles and then looks to his mom. “Arthur has keys for these, right?”

 

Lyanna just laughs as she takes plates down from the cabinet and Jon looks back to Brandon, smiling and he holds Brandon with one arm and holds up his other arm. Brandon takes the handcuff and fastens it around Jon’s wrist, laughing the whole time. Jon can’t help, but laugh a little, too. Brandon takes the other cuff and the cuff is so big and his hand so small, he is able to slip it right through, but of course, it falls right off. But Brandon just laughs about it and Jon smiles widely.

 

The front door opens and closes again, Arthur coming into the kitchen a few seconds later.

 

“Grampa, daddy needs the key!” Brandon declares, and holds up Jon’s cuffed wrist.

 

“I’ll get it,” Arthur smiles.

 

Jon wonders if Arthur’s own heart seizes in his chest when Brandon so easily calls him “Grandpa” because Jon’s throat is still feeling thick and his eyes are still stinging and he has to keep blinking quickly because the last thing he wants to do is start crying; at least he doesn’t want to start crying in front of everyone. That’s between himself and a bathroom with the door locked.

 

Arthur looks to Lyanna and then the chicken before back to his wife. “Bad news, love,” he says.

 

Lyanna just gives him a smile. “I’ll fix you up a plate for later,” she promises and Arthur smiles, too, leaning in and kissing her cheek.

 

Arthur then looks to Jon and Brandon. He reaches into his packet pocket and produces a small key. “Sorry, Brandon. I have to go to work and I can’t take your daddy with me.” He unlocks the handcuff from around Jon’s wrist and Brandon, with a slight pout, lets Arthur take the handcuffs from him. Arthur leans in and drops a kiss to the little boy’s head. “I’ll see if the station has an extra pair lying around.”

 

That gets Brandon beaming again and Jon wonders if the boy’s fourth birthday party will be police themed.

 

…

 

They arrive back home a couple of hours later and as promised, Lyanna has packed enough left-overs for Jon to bring home to feed at least four individual Sansas.

 

Jon unlocks the front door and sees Sansa, Ghost and Lady all on the couch together, Ghost and Lady jumping down, running over to them and barking when he and Brandon enter the house. Sansa smiles when she sees them and pausing whatever she’s watching on the television, she stands up, Jon smiling at her in return as he closes and locks the door behind him once again.

 

“Mama!” Brandon exclaims in the midst of laughing as Ghost and Lady both crowd all around him, licking him and wanting his love and affection.

 

“Ghost! Lady! Outside!” Jon calls out over the noise and the two beasts immediately run from the living room, through the kitchen and to the back door. “From mom,” he tells Sansa, handing her the plastic container as he passes her to go let the dogs out.

 

Sansa follows behind him. “She did not have to send so much,” she says and sets the container down on the counter so she can pry the lid back at the corner and peek inside, the aroma wafting up to curl into her nose.

 

Jon smirks a little and unlocks the back door, letting the two dogs bound out like the hyper idiots they are.

 

“Be sure to tell her that next time you see her. I’m sure she’ll listen,” Jon jokes.

 

Sansa smiles and then turns, bending down to help Brandon unbundle himself from his outer layers. Jon looks to Sansa as she does. He can tell she took a bath. Her hair is down and still slightly damp, air-drying in waves, and he can smell cotton candy faintly hanging in the air and he knows that that’s Sansa bubble bath. She’s wearing a pair of his boxers and a gray Winterfell University sweatshirt with thick wool socks on her feet. Brandon is telling her all about the handcuffs before "Grampa" Arthur had to leave and Sansa is smiling and laughing and if he hadn’t talked to her earlier, Jon would have no idea that she had been so upset.

 

“PJ day?” Brandon then gasps after Sansa tells him.

 

Sansa nods with a slight laugh. “PJ day,” she confirms. “How about you go and pick out the PJs you want to wear tonight and I’ll come in a few moments to help you change?”

 

“I can do it!” Brandon says with that independent toddler streak he is showing more and more each day.

 

With that, he turns and scampers from the kitchen for his bedroom. Alone now, Sansa stands and turns to Jon. With a smile, Jon takes her hands in his, gently pulling her in closer to him, and she smiles at him as she comes to him, one of her hands pulling from his so she could rest it on her cheek. Jon does his best to keep his eyes open even though any time Sansa touches him, honestly, all he wants to do is lose himself in that touch and close his eyes and revel in it.

 

Instead, he leans in and rests his forehead to hers. He is still holding her left hand and he moves his thumb so he can feel the diamond engagement ring she wears and never takes off.

 

He can’t wait until he’s wearing his own ring. He’d marry her tonight if he could. He wants to marry her as soon as he can because just knowing that Sansa is going to be his wife isn’t enough anymore. He wants her as his wife. Brandon has called him his daddy and Jon wants Sansa to call him her husband. And he knows they’re planning a whole wedding and he knows how much she wants it because he wants it, too, but would it be alright if they just ran off and got married now and _then_ had the big wedding?

 

Maybe when they’re down in King’s Landing…

 

He can tell her about his accident and his scar and his kidney and then they can go get married.

 

“Thank you so much for tonight,” Sansa says then, breaking through his thoughts. “And I’m sorry-”

 

Not wanting to hear her apologize again – there still is absolutely no reason for an apology – Jon simply takes his other hand and bringing it around the back of Sansa’s neck, he pulls her in for a kiss. And still thinking about the two of them just going off somewhere and getting married, Jon immediately deepens the kiss, listening as Sansa moans softly and feeling the way that her body practically melts into his.

 

Sansa lets go of his hand so both of her arms can circle around his neck and Jon’s arms wind around her waist, hauling her body tightly against his, his tongue entering her mouth again. Sansa moans, slanting her mouth tighter over his, and Jon gently turns her around so she is pressed against the counter behind her. He can’t help, but press himself tightly against her, letting her feel what she can do to him in a matter of seconds and Sansa whimpers into his mouth, her fingers carding through the black curls he is wearing down that night, gripping clumps in her fists as she presses her own hips against his.

 

It’s Jon’s turn to nearly whimper.

 

He tears his mouth away from hers so he can graze his lips along the line of her jaw and then to her throat. He can hear Sansa pant in his ear and name him a sound that’s better than that.

 

“Brandon called me daddy tonight,” Jon tells her, barely lifting his hips from her skin to do so.

 

“He did?” Sansa gasps – from both his news and his lips.

 

“Mm-hmm,” Jon nods against her throat. “And I didn’t even realize how badly I wanted it until I heard him.”

 

Sansa inhales a shaky breath and Jon knows, this time, it isn’t about what he’s doing to her.

 

He lifts his head and pulls it back so he can see her face and sure enough, there’s tears in her eyes, but she’s smiling. Jon smiles, too.

 

“I’m so happy,” she then says in case he doesn’t know.

 

Jon just smiles. “Me, too.”

 

“You’re his daddy. You really are,” she says, her voice shaking. “And I’m just _so_ happy he knows that and I’m so happy that you want to be.”

 

“Sansa,” Jon says her name quietly, lifting both of his hands to her cheeks. “You know this. Being here, with you two, it’s all I ever want.”

_And I want to elope with you tonight if you’re up for it or when we go to King’s Landing in a couple of weeks,_ Jon thinks silently to himself.

 

And she nods because she _does_ know that, but still, just hearing him tell her always makes her want to cry. Jon can’t find her to be ridiculous though. Just a little bit ago, he was completely prepared to go into his mother’s bathroom so he could cry over Brandon calling him daddy.

 

With a smile, hands still on her cheeks, Jon tilts Sansa's head down enough for him to kiss her forehead.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank you enough to those who love this story/universe as much as I do. It just honestly completely floors me. 
> 
> I will be working on _Castle Black Bar_ tomorrow so that can be updated next. 
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone for everything!


	9. Eight

…

 

**Eight.**

At first, Jon doesn’t know if it’s his alarm clock or his cell phone.

 

From beside him, Sansa moans a little in her sleep at the sudden noise in their bedroom and rolls away, burrowing in deeper beneath the covers. Jon keeps hearing the sound and after another second, his tired brain is able to realize that it’s his cell phone. With his own moan, Jon rolls towards the nightstand table on his side of the bed and blindly reaches for the device that will not stop ringing.

 

“’ello?” He croaks.

 

He hears a sniffle and then, “Jon?”

 

Jon’s eyes instantly snap open and is wide awake now. “Gilly? Gilly, are you okay?” He sits up and his eyes fly to the clock. Just a few minutes after two. Shit. A recovering alcoholic calling her friend – and sponsor – at two o’clock in the morning is _never_ a good thing.

 

“I… I need you to come and get me,” she sobs.

 

Jon rushes from the bed so quickly, he wakens Sansa. He hardly notices though as he goes to his dresser, ripping open the top drawer and getting a pair of socks and then another drawer, pulling out a pair of jeans.

 

“Where are you?”

 

“I’m at Yoren’s Liquors and I… I can’t call Sam. Please, Jon. Please don’t call Sam,” she is crying, practically wailing, and he can hear that she is nearing hysterics.

 

“I won’t call Sam,” he swiftly promises. “Stay at Yoren’s. I’ll be there in a few minutes. Did you have a drink?” He then has to ask.

 

He’s been Gilly’s sponsor for four years and there had been a slip-up three years ago, but after that, and since then, Gilly has been sober. Jon’s heart is pounding because he has no idea if Gilly is still on the wagon or not and he has no idea what could have happened that would make her go to a twenty-four hour liquor store.

 

“No, but I… I really want one,” she sobs.

 

“Wait for me. Gilly, I will be right there.”

 

He has to hang up so he can get dressed and he sees that Sansa is awake now, sitting up, watching him.

 

“I have to go,” he tells her as he sits down on the bed to pull on his boots.

 

“I heard,” Sansa nods. “Bring her back here. I’ll make hot chocolate.”

 

Jon leans in and gives her a kiss. “Thank you,” he murmurs to her and then begins hurrying again; grabbing his cell phone and then hastens to the front closet, yanking on his coat and making sure that he has his keys. But they’re not in his pocket. “Fuck,” he whispers and then begins to frantically look around – the coffee table, the end tables, random shelves on the bookcase. His keys are always in his coat pocket. Where the hell are his keys?

 

Brandon. Brandon sometimes plays in the closet and has taken his keys more than once to play with them. Jon normally doesn’t care – why would he? – but right now, he needs his keys and he needs them now.

 

“Jon.”

 

He spins to see Sansa standing there, his keys dangling from her fingers.

 

He releases a heavy sigh of relief. “Thank you.” He leans in and gives her another quick kiss before he rushes out the front door, trusting Sansa to lock up behind him.

 

He doesn’t have time right now to think about what Sansa thinks about all of this; running out in the middle of the night because his phone has rung with someone from AA, in need of his help before they fall. He’ll think about it later – when his heart isn’t pounding and he’s reminding himself to obey the laws of the road because the last thing Gilly needs is Jon getting pulled over while she’s sobbing in a liquor store. He honestly will try not to think about it for as long as he possibly can. Sansa obviously knows about his alcoholism, but he hates showing these sides of it to her.

 

Thankfully, he pulls into Yoren’s without incident and he parks in the spot next to the car he knows is Gilly’s. The fluorescent lights from inside shine out into the night through the large front-plate windows and a bell rings out as Jon opens the door. There is a young man behind the counter and as soon as Jon enters and the man sees him, he points to one of the aisles. The vodka aisle. Jon knows Gilly had preferred vodka.

 

She is sitting on the floor, her shoulders shaking as she sobs, and when she hears Jon coming, she turns her head to look at him, her tear-stained cheeks glistening beneath the overhead lights, and the sight of him just makes more tears flood her eyes.

 

Jon sits down beside her and puts an arm around her. Gilly turns her head so she can rest it against his chest and he silently holds onto her as she cries for what feels like endless minutes; great sobs that hurt Jon’s own chest just from listening to it.

 

“I saw my dad,” Gilly finally gasps.

 

Ah. That’s what set her off. Jon had been thinking it had to do with Gilly’s dad because there isn’t anything else in Gilly’s life that could threaten her sobriety. He had never met the man, but from what Gilly had told him about her dad – and the things the man had done to her that a dad should not do to his daughter – Jon could understand Gilly’s need to drink and keep on drinking.

 

“We were at the nursery, of all places. Sam and I were looking at shrubs to buy and I had Little Sam in my arms, but then I felt as if someone was watching me and when I looked, there he was. He looked as surprised to see me. And then he was looking at Sam and Little Sam…"

 

Jon rubs a hand on her back. “You didn’t drink, Gilly,” he tells her.

 

Gilly lifts her head to look at him. “But I wanted to, Jon. My hands are shaking with how bad I want to.”

 

“But you didn’t,” he says again.

 

Gilly closes her eyes and Jon holds her hands. She’s right. They’re shaking. He begins inhaling and exhaling deeply and after a few moments, Gilly follows his lead. Soon, her tears all, but stop and she is able to breathe somewhat normally again.

 

“I’m going to call Sam,” Jon says and then quickly continues when Gilly opens her mouth to protest. “Just to let him know that you’re alright and you’re with me. I’m going to take you to my house where Sansa is going to make you hot chocolate. She makes the best hot chocolate in the world. And then, you’re going to sleep and tomorrow, the sun will be shining again. Okay?”

 

Gilly doesn’t say anything to that at first. She is still concentrating on her breathing as she looks at him.

 

“Okay,” she whispers with a head nod.

 

“I’ve been here, too,” he then tells her quietly.

 

“Sitting on the floor in the vodka aisle of a liquor store?” Gilly sniffles as she wipes at her cheeks.

 

“I was a simple beer man,” Jon says, his lips twitching. “But here. I’ve been here.”

 

“I can’t picture it,” Gilly admits.

 

“I don’t go to AA for fun,” he comments, almost dryly, and that gets a laugh out of her.

 

Jon gives a small smile that fades as he thinks about his own moment just like this.

 

Sansa had just given birth to Brandon and had come home from the hospital two days later. Ned and Catelyn, being Ned and Catelyn, had a small party at their house to celebrate the safe and healthy arrival of their first grandchild. Jon had been invited, but he had hesitated in going, knowing that Sansa wouldn’t want to see him there on such a happy day. But Sansa had been so busy – both with her baby and speaking and receiving the well-wishes of the other party goers, she hadn’t even known that Jon was in attendance as well.

 

Jon had kept mostly to the living room – the main party mostly sticking between the kitchen and den areas. He had spent the afternoon, drinking endless glasses of ginger ale and wondering what the hell he was doing there. He didn’t belong there. This afternoon was for Sansa and her baby, Brandon, and he shouldn’t be there. And yet, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He could hear Sansa occasionally laugh from one of the rooms at something someone was saying to her and he would close his eyes, his entire heart clenching as if being squeezed by a fist as he listened to her.

 

“Look at him!” Proud Uncle Robb came into the living room then, his baby nephew in his arms, Brandon dozing and sucking on a pacifier. “I know he’s not even a week old and still looks like a potato, but I think he has the Tully look to him. Thank God,” he then added almost under his breath, looking down at Brandon and smiling as if completely amazed by his existence.

 

Jon was silent, but he agreed. Not just being amazed at Brandon being here and existing, but not looking anything like the Ramsay side of his genes. Jon knew that it had been an unspoken worry of all of the Starks throughout Sansa’s pregnancy; that she would give birth and he would be a mini-Ramsay Bolton.

 

He knew that all newborns looked like potatoes – Robb wasn’t wrong about that – but Jon looked down to the baby in his uncle’s arms and he liked to imagine that Brandon Stark looked _just_ like his mom.

 

And the more Jon thought about that, the longer he stared down at Brandon and could hear Sansa laughing, the fist around his heart tightened even more until it physically hurt to breathe. This should be _his_. Sansa should be his _wife_ and the baby in his arms should be his and Sansa’s baby. People should be coming up to him today as he held his son in his arms and congratulating him and Jon would smile and shake his head and tell them that he hadn’t done anything and that Sansa was the amazing one. This should be his entire life.

 

But it wasn’t and there wasn’t a single thing or person that Jon could blame except himself.

 

He didn’t even realize that he was leaving. He heard Robb call his name, but he didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until he had pulled into the parking lot of a liquor store and inside, he headed straight for the coolers of beer that lined the back wall. He remembered, standing there and staring at the rows and rows of ice cold beers, able to taste them all on his tongue.

 

He didn’t even remember calling his sponsor, but he was still staring at the beers and then, Osha was at his side, talking with him and finally leading him from the store without his fingers even touching one bottle.

 

Leaving his car in the lot for the time being, Osha then drove him straight to his mom and Arthur’s house and he stayed there for two days, sleeping in his old bedroom, helping his mom and Arthur with yardwork and making sure that Tormund and Edd could handle the job that Snow Construction was working on without him. Robb called and then Ned Stark, but Jon didn’t talk to them and either his mom or Arthur did, assuring them that he was fine – _“No, he didn’t”_ , Jon over heard them answer and Jon imagined the question – and after two days, the scare was gone and Jon was still on the wagon and he was able to continue with his life.

 

So where Gilly is right now, it’s not a foreign place to Jon. He just hopes neither of them are ever here again.

 

“You ready to go try the best hot chocolate in the world?” Jon asks and he stands up before helping Gilly get to her feet as well.

 

Gilly nods, her eyes keeping to the floor; as if she can’t bring herself to look at him right now. “Thank you for coming to get me,” she whispers.

 

“You don’t have to thank me. I haven’t done anything,” Jon tells her, shrugging slightly.

 

Gilly looks at him then. “Do you think I can be like you one of these days? Will I ever get my shit together?”

 

Jon wants to smile even though he doesn’t see anything worth smiling about. He shrugs again instead.

 

“I’ll let you know when I get there myself.”

 

…

 

Gilly feels herself waking up, but she keeps her eyes closed for another moment longer.

 

She doesn’t feel confused as to where she is. It is still clear in her mind what happened earlier and this doesn’t smell like home. Every house smells different. Every house smells of the people who live there. Hers and Sam’s house smells like popcorn since popcorn is his and Little Sam’s favorite snack and there seems to always be a bag popping away in the microwave. This house though – with her eyes closed – smells like oatmeal. It makes her feel warm inside.

 

The night before, leaving her car at Yoren’s, Jon had driven her to his home. Guiding her inside, she was greeted by their two dogs – Ghost and Lady – who had been quiet at the late – or early – hour, but had sniffed at her curiously with wishes of their tails. And then Gilly had seen Sansa and she had never met her before, but Gilly had found herself hugging the woman, almost beginning to cry again, and Sansa had hugged her tightly in return, not at all in the least bit uncomfortable with a complete stranger _needing_ to hug her.

 

When Gilly finally opens her eyes, she finds herself to still be on Jon and Sansa’s couch – not that she had thought she would be moved while she slept – and she instantly notes the small boy standing next to the couch, looking at her.

 

“Hello,” Gilly says, her voice still cloaked with sleep, and she manages a small smile.

 

He’s a little boy of either three or four with auburn hair and bright blue eyes. It’s almost the same shade as Sansa’s hair, but it’s a bit darker and far curlier.

 

He’s wearing pajamas with hippos on them – the _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ hippos, she recognizes – and he’s holding a stuffed wolf in his arms.

 

“I’m not supposed to wake you,” the boy informs her.

 

Gilly smiles a little easier now, only the last remnants of sleep still hanging on. “You didn’t,” she assures him.

 

He smiles, too. “Can I watch television?” He asks.

 

“It’s your home,” she answers and he giggles as if that’s funny and as he takes the remote from the coffee table in front of her and turns on the television before pulling himself up into the armchair, Gilly yawns and slowly sits up.

 

She wipes her hands over her face and then looks to see what the boy has put on.

 

_Hidden deep inside the jungle,_

_There’s hippos! There’s hippos!_

_Chloe, Zoe, Mick and Vic!_

_They’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

 

Gilly smiles faintly. Little Sam loves this television show, too. She actually wouldn’t be surprised if every toddler in Westeros loves this show.

 

She hears a shower turn off – she has just noticed that a shower has been running – and then, just a few seconds later, the bathroom door opens and Sansa appears, hair dripping wet and a towel wrapped tightly around her body.

 

“Brandon Eddard Stark!” She scolds him quietly. “I told you not to wake Gilly.”

 

“I didn’t!” The boy insists.

 

“He didn’t,” Gilly backs him up. “And it’s his home. I wouldn’t want to mess up his morning routine.”

 

“Thank you,” Sansa gives her a smile, but a frown to Brandon. “Still, you promised you would be quiet while I was in the shower.”

 

Brandon gives the innocent frown that all little kids his age seem to have perfected. “I’m sorry, mama.”

 

And Sansa, like most moms, can’t seem to stay _too_ upset towards their child when given that frown.

 

She sighs and then looks to Gilly. “Did you sleep alright?” She asks kindly.

 

“I did,” Gilly says with a smile and a nod. “I can’t thank you enough-”

 

“And none are needed,” Sansa gently cuts her off. “I’m going to put myself together again and then I am going to fix some breakfast. Would you like something to eat?”

 

Gilly knows she should refuse. She has a husband and a son of her own that are probably worried out of their minds for her. She’s been selfish enough and how much can she expect Sam to put up with? She needs to get home. And yet, she can’t bring herself to face either of them. Not yet. She just wants to stay hidden away in this small, oatmeal-scented house for a bit longer before she brings herself back out to the real world.

 

“If it’s not too much trouble,” Gilly says even though she tells herself that she’s already been as much trouble as a person can be – calling Jon in the middle the night, breaking down in a liquor store, pulling him from his bed, forcing him into a situation where he has to bring her back here and have her sleep on the couch.

 

She knows she needs to just thank Sansa for everything and be on her way, but Sansa has already smiled and with a promise that she’ll be right back, she leaves, going back into the bathroom with a click of the door.

 

Brandon sits in the armchair, his eyes fixated on the cartoon on the television, his finger flicking the ear of his stuffed wolf back and forth.

 

She thinks of what Sansa called him. Brandon Eddard _Stark_. Before hearing that, Gilly had just assumed that Brandon is Jon’s son, but obviously, he’s not since the little boy has a different last name other than “Snow”. It’s none of her business though. Jon is marrying Sansa and Jon isn’t nearly the first man to marry a woman who already has a child or children with a different man.

 

“Where’s Jon?” She asks, not sure if Jon is daddy to Brandon or not. She won’t be assuming anything again.

 

“Daddy’s sleeping,” Brandon answer, his eyes never leaving the cartoon.

 

Ah. So Jon is daddy. That is good to know so she doesn’t make a future blunder with using possibly wrong labels. She wonders where Brandon’s real daddy is and if he’s still in the picture. She can’t imagine that he is though if Brandon easily calls another man his daddy instead. That is definitely none of her business though and she doesn’t want it to be.

 

Brandon giggles then and Gilly looks to see that Officer Chester the Cheetah has just gotten a banana squirted from the peel into his face from one of the unruly monkey guests. Gilly knows this episode. She knows all of the episodes because of Little Sam. She wonders if Jon and Sansa will be taking Brandon to the live show _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ is bringing to Wintertown next month. Maybe Gilly can suggest that the two families all attend together.

 

She isn’t going to think of how an afternoon of a theater full of loud, cheering toddlers and four dancing hippos will really drive her to wanting her to have a drink. But she thinks of what Jon told her three years earlier when she fell off the wagon. She’s stronger than vodka. She’s stronger than her father. She’s stronger than anything and she needs to both believe and remember that.

 

Gilly has always wondered what was Jon’s trigger in the past that would make him want to drink. She’s never asked though and he’s never told her. He’s her sponsor. She’s not his. Even if he tells her, Gilly doubts very much that she would ever be able to help him as he helps her.

 

Sansa appears again, dressed, once again, in her pajamas, and her hair a bit more dry. “Breakfast?” She asks both Brandon and Gilly with a smile.

 

“Breakfast!” Brandon exclaims excitedly.

 

Gilly wonders if Jon is still asleep.

 

“Do you like oatmeal, Gilly?” Sansa then asks her with the same warm smile she had given to her hours before when Jon had led her crying mess of a self into the house and she and Sansa met for the first time.

 

“Oatmeal sounds wonderful,” Gilly says, able to return Sansa’s smile with one of her own.

 

Maybe, hopefully, after a hot breakfast of oatmeal, she’ll be able to face her family again.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love this chapter and I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you very much for reading!!


	10. Nine

…

 

**Nine.**

Jon climbs the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator, knowing that he’s late, but hoping that he’s not _too_ late. Once he reaches the third floor of the Student Union, he sees Sansa and Mr. Seaworth, the President of Winterfell University, standing in the hallway outside one of the ballrooms, chatting. Mr. Seaworth is smiling as he speaks and whatever he is saying, it is making Sansa laugh softly. They both turn their heads when they see Jon coming their way.

 

“I’m sorry I’m late,” Jon says as way of greeting, slightly out of breath.

 

“You’re not late at all. We’re just early,” Mr. Seaworth assures him as he and Jon shake hands.

 

Jon smiles and tilts his head towards him and then looks to Sansa, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You ready?” He asks her.

 

“Definitely,” Sansa answers, slipping her hand into his and Jon happily holds it, giving it a squeeze. It feels as if her body is vibrating ever so slightly with excitement and it makes him smile again, holding her hand a bit tighter. He loves seeing her like this and her excitement of wedding plan only feeds his own.

 

“This is our smallest ballroom. Sansa mentioned you weren’t planning that large of a wedding,” Mr. Seaworth says as he unlocks the last set of double doors in the hallway.  “This room can comfortably hold seventy-five to a hundred people.”

 

Jon and Sansa exchange glances. That’s a bit – a lot – bigger than what they have been planning for their wedding and reception, but they follow Mr. Seaworth into the room nonetheless.

 

“Where’s Brandon?” Jon asks quietly as Mr. Seaworth goes to turn on the lights in the pitch black room.

 

It’s Sansa lunch hour and she and Brandon usually spend this hour together – either going to the Student Union cafeteria or Sansa eating with Brandon in the daycare center.

 

“He was napping and there was no waking him,” Sansa smiles.

 

They both blink a couple of times when the lights come on and they get their first look at the “small” ballroom. Chandeliers hang above them, brightly lit, and there are wall sconces that can be dimmed. There are no windows – which Jon immediately doesn’t like – and there is a sea of round tables before them.

 

They listen politely as Mr. Seaworth shows them the bar against the wall – not knowing that they are going to be having a dry wedding – and the nice-sized dance floor. He also mentions the discount they’ll get since Sansa is an employee of the University and both she and Jon are alumni.

 

Jon glances at Sansa, but her face is impassive and he can’t really read her expression. She is smiling politely at Mr. Seaworth, listening to him intently, and Jon just hopes that Sansa isn’t really considering this. It’s a nice ballroom, sure, but it’s not for them and their wedding. At least not in Jon’s opinion.

 

“Alright. I will leave you two alone to discuss things. Stop by my office if you make your decision today. There’s no rush,” Mr. Seaworth smiles both at them warmly. “And don’t worry about locking up. I’ll send a student to do it later.”

 

Both Jon and Sansa thank him and with one more parting smile, Mr. Seaworth leaves.

 

Jon is still holding Sansa’s hand so when she begins weaving through the tables for the dance floor, Jon doesn’t let go of her hand. He simply goes with her. He’s going to first get a feel for Sansa’s opinion on this ballroom before he gives her his. If he finds out that she loves it, he wonders if he’ll just bite it down and deal with it because he is determined to give Sansa the wedding of her dreams and if this is part of her dream…

 

“Come here,” Sansa breaks through his thoughts once they are both standing on the hardened dance floor.

 

She pulls his hand from hers, but only so she can slip both of her arms around his waist, and Jon finds himself smiling, wrapping his arms around her as well, holding her body close to his.

 

“I’m going ask you something and I want you to give me your _honest_ opinion. Promise?” Sansa asks.

 

“Promise,” Jon readily promises.

 

“It’s going to be summer soon,” she begins.

 

Jon nods; not that summer in the North is anything like summer in the South. The temperatures are warmer, yes, and the snow melts in the lowlands, but there is always snow still in the mountains so the ski and snowboarding businesses can continue on no matter the season. It can be quite warm during the day when the sun is out, shining, but when it’s gone at night, it can be quite cold again where in the South, it remains hot no matter the time of the day, all year long, with no winter to arrive to offer respite.

 

“And since we’re not inviting that many people and my parents have a large backyard…” she trails off then and Jon looks at her, nearly holding his breath, only able to _hope_ that she’s suggesting what he thinks she is. Sansa pauses for just a moment. “I was thinking about having the reception outside-”

 

“God, yes,” Jon cuts in immediately with his answer. “I mean, this is nice, but it’s almost… _too_ nice.”

 

Sansa raises an eyebrow at that, nearly smiling, and Jon rapidly shakes his head.

 

“Not that you and me aren’t nice people who will have a nice wedding. I just would like it a hell of a lot more if it was something a bit less…” he trails off, trying to figure out the exact word he is trying to think of right now. In his opinion, Sansa is definitely a ballroom kind of girl. She always has been. Jon, not so much. And he knows that Sansa won’t agree with him if he tells her something like that, but whether she agrees with him or not, it doesn’t make it any less of the truth.

 

“Stuffy?” Sansa offers.

 

 “Stuffy,” Jon agrees. “Exactly.”

 

“Since the guest list is so small and people we really want there will be the only ones there, I just think we should have a big party rather than a typical wedding reception,” Sansa continues.

 

Jon doesn’t say anything to that. He lifts his hands to her cheeks and kisses her instead. For a moment, he can feel Sansa’s lips curve into a smile against his, but then she sinks into the kiss, returning it, her arms tightening around his waist as he pulls her body close against his.

 

“I’ll show you my Pinterest board. I’ve been getting a lot of ideas,” Sansa tells him once their lips part and Jon just smiles at that, giving her a nod.

 

He recalls Brandon’s third birthday party and how perfect Sansa had assured that party had been; gathering as many ideas from Pinterest as she could for her son’s pirate-themed party.

 

“We’ll talk to my parents,” Sansa continues. “I’m sure they’ll love the idea of having the reception in their backyard,” she says and Jon smirks a little at that.

 

Considering Ned and Catelyn had had a small party for Brandon when the baby took his first steps, Jon doesn’t doubt that the couple will love the idea of having their oldest daughter’s wedding reception at their home. He doubts anyone else in this world loves playing host and hostess more than his future in-laws.

 

With one more final look around the ballroom, and both deciding with finality that this is not the way either imagined their wedding reception, they leave, hand in hand and head down the carpeted hallway for the stairs. Sansa has to get back to the library and Jon has to get back to work and they will see one another in just a few hours when their days are done and both have returned for the evening, yet, Jon finds himself dreading the idea of parting from her right now. He doesn’t know why – they part from one another every morning as they go off to their jobs – but this afternoon, he holds her hand just a little bit tighter.

 

Maybe, for the moment, he’s just sick of going their own separate ways.

 

Sansa notices. “Is everything alright?” She asks as they take the stairs down to the second floor.

 

“I don’t know,” he admits as honestly as he can.

 

Sansa looks at him and then without a word, she leads him over to a bench against the wall. They sit down side by side, and Jon still hasn’t let go of her hand and he stares down at their intertwined hands. Sansa’s skin is soft and pale as ever while his is a bit rougher, a bit darker from working outside for hours.

 

“Talk to me,” Sansa says quietly and Jon lifts his head to find her looking at him.

 

Her words are soft, but he can hear the plea in them. He hates that he puts her in a position to plea with him for anything; let alone him actually talking with her.

 

“Are you getting cold feet?” Sansa then asks quietly and Jon’s eyes widen – both at just how wrong she is and how he hates himself that she even has to ask that.

 

“No, Sansa,” Jon rapidly shakes his head. “No.”

 

His words are firm and he lets go of her hand only just so he can wrap both of his arms around her, pulling her tightly against his side.

 

“Never doubt that marrying you is the only thing I want to do,” Jon says, his tone soft, but his words firm and Sansa tilts her chin up to look into his face. “Just the opposite. When we go down to King’s Landing in a couple of weeks, I would marry you down there in a second. Hell, I’d go somewhere tonight and marry you.”

 

“Really? You’ve never said anything,” she begins to shake her head.

 

“Because I didn’t want to be selfish,” he tells her. “You deserve a wedding more than anyone, Sansa. The wedding of your dreams and I didn’t want to be selfish and suggest it and try to take that away from you.”

 

“You’re not selfish.” Again, Sansa shakes her head.

 

“That and the idea of what your mom and dad would do if they found out we eloped terrifies me. My mom, too, while we’re at it,” Jon adds with a small smile across his lips.

 

Sansa smiles at that, too, but then she’s quiet, the slightest pull between her eyebrows. He watches her, knowing that she’s thinking about something, and he waits until she’s thought it through and is ready to talk.

 

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Jon says before he can stop himself.

 

Sansa instantly looks at him. “Why?” She begins to frown. “Jon,” she turns her body a bit more towards him. “I want you to be able to tell me anything. I _need_ that.”

 

“I shouldn’t have mentioned eloping because now I can see that you’re thinking about it and I know you don’t want to elope, Sansa, and I don’t want you to do it just because it’s what I think about sometimes.”

 

Sansa is still frowning at him, that crease still behind her eyebrows that Jon thinks is absolutely adorable and he’s tempted to lean in now and give it a kiss, but he’s able to keep himself from doing that. It doesn’t feel like the right thing to do at the moment. He opened up this can and now, he has to get all of the worms back.

 

“Is it hard to believe that I’ve thought about eloping, too?” Sansa questions him. “And the only reason that I didn’t mention it is because I was also thinking of what my mother would do when she found out?”

 

Jon wants to smile at that. Catelyn Stark _is_ terrifying and no one can really deny it. But he doesn’t smile because he’s too busy staring at Sansa, looking to her face – studying her – to see if she really means it. Slowly, his arms fall away from her.

 

“You’ve been planning your dream wedding since you were a little girl and you lined all of your stuffed animals and dolls up on either side of the aisle.”

 

“I also went through a phase where I imagined myself marrying one of the Jonas Brothers, but here we are,” Sansa retorts back to him. But then her face softens and she takes his hands in hers. “We can elope, Jon. We can,” she hurries out when he opens his mouth to argue. “We can get our marriage license and then get married in King’s Landing and when we get back, we can still have the reception in my parents’ backyard and I can wear my pink dress and you can look perfect in your black tux and we’ll eat burgers from our bar.”

 

Jon stares at her and he knows that he should say something, but right now, he can just stare at her because his heart is racing in his chest and he can see how absolutely serious she is; how much Sansa means this.

 

He shakes his head nonetheless. “Your parents want to see you get married, Sansa, and my parents would kill me if I took that away from watching me marry you.”

 

“We can get married again when we get home. For our parents,” Sansa quickly thinks.

 

She pulls her lower lip between her teeth. Jon lifts a hand to her face and gently frees it with his thumb.

 

“Why do you want to elope so badly?” He wonders.

 

He knows why he wants to elope. He doesn’t know if he can wait a few more months before Sansa is his wife. His actual wife with his last name and rings on their fingers.

 

He just had had no idea that Sansa has been experiencing the same level of urgency and desperation as him.

 

“Because…” Sansa begins and then exhales a deep sigh, lowering her eyes. “Because I’m really stressed out.”

 

“What?” Jon feels his eyes widen. “You are? With what? With wedding planning? But I’m helping you.”

 

“I know you are,” she squeezes his hands and looks to him again. “I’ve been looking everywhere and Margaery’s been helping me look and I know we decided on our wedding colors being pink and sage, but we can’t find green peonies anywhere and the florists I’ve talked to said that they don’t have any _at the moment,_ but they can dye the peonies green, but I don’t want dyed flowers for our wedding and that will cost so much money and I’ve been trying to find other green flowers and I know we didn’t want to pick blue because blue and pink would look too much like a baby shower, but blue peonies are so beautiful and I want to elope because I just want to get married and be your wife and I’m sick of spending so much time thinking about _flowers_.”

 

She is speaking so quickly and Jon is trying to catch every word and by the end, she’s breathless and near tears. Jon presses his lips to her forehead and pulls her back into his arms.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks her, his cheek against her head. “I told you that I wanted to help with _all_ of the wedding plans and I meant it, Sansa.”

 

She shakes her head. “I didn’t want to bother you with it,” she says quietly.

 

Jon opens his mouth to reply, but he stops himself before he can.

 

 _I didn’t want to bother you with it_. That’s exactly what he told her when he finally talked with her about the Baratheon Projects proposal.

 

“We’re real shit at talking to each other,” Jon comments – more to himself – and Sansa lets out a slight laugh at that. She lifts her head and Jon frames her face with his hands. “We’ll get blue peonies,” he says. “I like having our favorite colors for our wedding reception and if anyone thinks it’s a baby shower, let them think it. We’ll be having one of those soon enough.”

 

Sansa lets out another soft laugh. “You are very determined to get me knocked up as soon as you possibly can after the wedding, aren’t you? Is that why you want to elope? So we can get started on it right away?”

 

“I just want to be your husband,” Jon says. “I’m tired of waking up and not being your husband. I feel like… enough time has gone on between us and I know it’s just a few more months and I can wait, Sansa. Don’t think I can’t wait.”

 

“I just want to be your wife,” Sansa says before he can say anything else.

 

“And when we’re down in King’s Landing, you want to get married? Just the two of us?” Jon asks because this isn’t just something light. He has to be absolutely sure that this is what she wants before Jon even thinks about making any sort of plan.

 

Sansa doesn’t hesitate before she’s nodding her head. “And we’ll get home and we’ll tell our families and then we’ll _quickly_ also tell them that we’ll get married again and have a reception.”

 

“We don’t _have_ to tell them that we got married,” Jon muses.

 

Sansa pauses before shaking her head. “I’d have to tell my mom and Arya. I tell them everything.”

 

“And what about Brandon? You wouldn’t mind not having him with us for the first wedding?” He asks.

 

Sansa pauses, but then shakes her head. “The first wedding, it’s going to be in some office of some Justice of the Peace. It’s just you and me for you and me. Our second wedding, Brandon and my dad will walk me down the aisle and it will be absolutely perfect.”

 

Jon smiles and his stomach is churning as if he’s going to be sick or he’s nervous, but he knows it’s not churning for either of those reasons. It’s churning because he and Sansa are getting married. In a couple of more weekends, they’ll be down in King’s Landing and he’s going to throw her over his shoulder and carry her into that Justice of the Peace’s office so they can finally be married and finally be together and no one and nothing is going to stop them.

 

Their families will be understandably shocked when they come back and tell them that he and Sansa got married, but honestly, Jon isn’t expecting any of them to be really that surprised once the initial shock rubs away. In his opinion, he and Sansa are getting married no matter what. Whether it be in two weeks or two months, it’s going to happen and the sooner, the better in his opinion.

 

Still smiling, his hands still framing her face, Jon gently pulls a smiling Sansa into a kiss and he remembers that they’re sitting in the Student Union and he can’t kiss her _exactly_ the way he wants. That will have to be saved for later. And there’s still that anxiousness of wanting to marry this woman already, but he can handle two weeks. He can handle it a lot better than waiting months.

 

They’ll get the marriage license and they’ll go down to King’s Landing to meet with Robert and Stannis Baratheon and they’ll get married along the way.

 

But that also just gives him two more weeks to suck it up, man up and tell her about his kidney.

 

…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took me forever and I have no idea why. Thank you so much for reading and I hope this isn't complete crap. 
> 
> Things still to happen in this story:
> 
> More wedding planning  
> Jon/Sansa serious discussions  
> Jon/Sansa serious disagreements  
> picking the perfect Beatles tribute band  
> Hubba Bubba Hotel Live show  
> Brandon/Little Sam playdate & family dinner
> 
> And happy belated 75th birthday to George Harrison!!


	11. Ten

…

 

**Ten.**

 

Their train leaves the station at two o’clock and Jon pulls into the Stark home driveway at noon, giving them plenty of time for Sansa to say goodbye to Brandon for the weekend. She and Brandon have never spent a night apart before and Jon imagines that being able to actually to get Sansa back in the car while leaving Brandon behind will be quite the task; that and he doesn’t want to rush Sansa through saying goodbye.

 

As Jon gets Ghost and Lady from the back, Sansa unbuckles Brandon from his car seat and sets him down on his feet, smiling as the boy instantly goes scampering up the driveway to the front porch where Catelyn is already standing, waiting for them. Ghost and Lady trail after him and Jon comes to Sansa’s side.

 

“You okay?” Jon asks Sansa quietly, his hand slipping to the back of her neck.

 

“Sure,” Sansa does her best to nod and give him a smile.

 

“Sansa,” he begins to say.

 

“I’m coming with you, Jon,” Sansa firmly cuts him off. “We’re getting married, we’re meeting with the Baratheon brothers and you’re not getting rid of me this weekend.”

 

Jon purses his lips together so she doesn’t see him smiling. “That’s all good to know, but I was going to ask if you wanted to bring Brandon with us. The hotel has a pool. The two of you can stay and swim while I meet with Stannis and Robert…” he trails off though when he sees the way Sansa is looking at him, he’s tempted to look to his shoulders to see if he’s actually spouting a second head. “Or… not,” he finishes lamely.

 

Sansa exhales a soft breath and then after shaking her head, she leans in and gives him a soft kiss. “This is _our_ weekend,” she whispers to him.

 

Jon looks into his soon-to-be wife’s face and all he can do is swallow thickly and nod.

 

 _Our weekend._ He’s getting married to Sansa this weekend. Tomorrow, to be more specific. They’ve already acquired their marriage license, tucked and packed away safely in Sansa’s purse, and Jon has already set up a time with a Justice of the Peace that can marry them. Tomorrow at eleven o’clock, he and Sansa will be exchanging vows and rings and finally – _finally_ – he’ll be able to call himself Sansa’s husband.

 

Sansa takes Brandon’s _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ backpack and Jon gets Brandon’s bag for the weekend and they finally head up the driveway into the house and Jon does his best to not laugh over the next hour as Sansa goes through every single instruction she has written down on a piece of paper for her mother – as if this is the very first time Catelyn and Ned Stark have ever watched their grandson.

 

“I’ve also made this,” Sansa says and pulls a plastic CD case from her purse. “There are just four songs. _Maxwell’s Silver Hammer, All Together Now, I’ll Follow the Sun_ and _Dig a Pony_. I figured this would be easier than bringing the separate CDs and having you switch them out for just those songs.”

 

“I’m introducing Brandon to some rap over the weekend!” Rickon, overhearing, calls out from the den.

 

Sansa ignores him and continues speaking with Catelyn. “These are his favorites and I don’t know how he’s going to be, when I’m gone, but hearing these might help.”

 

Catelyn smiles and takes the CD from her. “We might skip over _Maxwell’s Silver Hammer_ ,” she says and Sansa actually smiles at that. “Don’t worry, Sansa. Brandon is going to be fine. I promise.”

 

“I know,” Sansa nods rapidly. “I just…” she trails off, struggling to find the right words.

 

“I know,” Catelyn says with a gentle smile and pulls Sansa into a hug. She looks past her daughter to see Jon standing there and she seems to be thinking something, but what, Jon has no idea. Jon doubts there will ever come a time when he’ll be able to read the facial expressions of his soon-to-be mother-in-law. “Now,” Catelyn gently pulls Sansa back and puts her hands on her shoulders so she can look to Sansa’s face. “You are going to go to King’s Landing for an adult weekend away and you are not going to worry about Brandon. Jon,” Catelyn looks past Sansa to Jon. “I’m trusting you to keep her as distracted as possible,” she tells him.

 

“Ewwwww,” Rickon groans dramatically as he comes into the kitchen, giving Brandon a piggy back ride.

 

Catelyn rolls her eyes. “Not that kind of distraction.”

 

Jon doesn’t say anything and finishes sipping his glass of water. _Some_ of the weekend will be that kind of distraction, but no one really needs to have that confirmed. He clears his throat. “My mom and Arthur are going to be coming sometime this evening, probably after six. My mom will call you beforehand. It kind of depends on Arthur’s schedule.”

 

Sometime during the week – unbeknownst to Jon or Sansa – their mothers had set up a dinner this evening for the parents, Brandon and Rickon, too, since he had no plans with his friends that night.

 

They’ve known each other, of course, throughout Jon and Robb’s years-long friendship and Ned and Catelyn helping Lyanna so much with Jon before she married Arthur, but now, the four adults’ relationships are changing. Now, they are going to becoming family. Officially.

 

“I can imagine how difficult it is, making set plans with his job,” Catelyn smiles and looks back to Sansa. “Are you going to have fun this weekend?”

 

Jon waits for Sansa to hesitate; to almost have trouble answering. But instead, Sansa’s nod is instant.

 

“I’m going to have fun this weekend,” Sansa promises.

 

“Ewwwww,” Rickon groans again.

 

“Ewwwww!” Brandon parrots his uncle with a delighted laugh.

 

“Alright,” Sansa laughs a little as she takes Brandon from Rickon’s back and holds him in her arms. “I need you to promise me something.”

 

Something tightens around Jon’s heart as mother and son look into one another’s eyes, her forehead resting against his.

 

Jon can’t wait to marry this woman. He can’t wait to have this little boy share his last name.

 

He just can’t wait for it all.

 

“You are going to be staying with Grandpa and Grandma and Uncle Rickon this weekend. You will have Ghost and Lady and Moe is in your bag and I have your Beatles music. And you’ll be seeing Grandma Lyanna and Grandpa Arthur later. Can you promise me you’ll be good for all of them?”

 

Brandon nods readily. “I promise, mama.”

 

They all know that Brandon doesn’t know, yet, that when Sansa and Jon leave, they won’t be back for two days. He doesn’t know, yet, that he will be going to sleep without either of them right in the next room. He doesn’t know, yet, but he’ll figure it out fairly quickly.

 

“I love you so much, Brandon,” she whispers to him as if it’s some grand secret just for the two of them.

 

“Love you, mama,” Brandon immediately replies in his own whisper; with a wide grin.

 

Sansa kisses Brandon’s forehead and then brings him in for a tight hug, Brandon’s arms around her neck. Jon catches the time on the stove. They need to go to ensure they catch their train, but he can’t tell Sansa that.

 

“Alright, Sansa,” Catelyn is the one to speak up and Jon finds himself exhaling with relief. “You and Jon need to go so you don’t miss your train.”

 

“Come here, Little Stark,” Jon says as he hefts Brandon from Sansa’s arms into his. Little Stark. Not for much longer, Jon thinks to himself with a smile. “Be sure Grandpa Arthur handcuffs Uncle Rickon,” he smiles.

 

“What?” Rickon frowns, not knowing what Jon is talking about, but Jon just smiles and Brandon giggles.

 

“I love you, Brandon,” Jon then tells the little boy.

 

“Love you, daddy,” he says and that fist around Jon’s heart completely melts until he’s fairly certain that every internal organ inside of him is just a pile of goo right now.

 

…

 

They make the train without problems and find their seats without difficulty and for the first hour of their three-hour journey, they are quiet. Sansa is reading a thick book - _I Me Mine_ , the somewhat autobiography of George Harrison – and Jon is reading through the Baratheon proposal for Snow Construction, though he has read over the papers so many times now, he has it all memorized.

 

Sometimes, he’ll hear Sansa sniffle and he’ll look at her, but even though her eyes are visibly wet, her cheeks are dry, and Jon rests his hand on her thigh, rubbing it gently. He knows she's not about to start crying because of George Harrison. At least, he's fairly certain that that's not the reason. 

 

“Can I ask you something?” He asks her after the first hour.

 

“Yes,” Sansa says, watching him as he puts his papers away.

 

“Our next son, are we going to name him George?”

 

“Yes,” her answer is immediate as is his grin. He looks back to Sansa once he’s finished stowing the papers in his bag again and she’s smiling now, too. “Are you against it?” She then asks.

 

“Naming our son after one of the greatest guitar players ever?”

 

“ _The_ greatest guitar player ever,” Sansa corrects him just as he knew she would.

 

“No, I’m not against it,” he says with a smile. “George Snow,” he then says, more to himself, testing the name out on his tongue, and Sansa closes her book, putting it away before hugging his arm to her chest with both of hers. He turns his head and rests his lips to her head, smelling the comforting scent of her hair. “I have to tell you something,” he says quietly. “Before tomorrow. Before we get married. I have to tell you something.”

 

Sansa lifts her head from resting it on his bicep to look at him. He tries to remind himself that he needs to keep breathing and he reminds himself that he _has_ to do this. There’s no more time left. He’s held it off for as long as he can and now, with their first wedding in less than twenty-four hours, he can’t keep it from her.

 

He doesn’t _want_ to keep it from her. He’s going to marry this woman. She is going to be his wife and he’s going to be her husband and he just needs to nut the fuck up and tell her. Sansa deserves a husband who is strong and brave enough to tell her anything.

 

“I didn’t get this scar in a pub fight,” Jon says, diving right into it.

 

Sansa doesn’t say a word. She sits there, still hugging his arm, and her eyes drift to his scar at his right eyebrow before looking back into his eyes.

 

“I got it before you came home. I didn’t know you were coming home. I didn’t know anything. I just knew that you were gone, living with a boyfriend, and that that boyfriend wasn’t me. I didn’t know what Ramsay was doing to you or how your life was…” he shakes his head. “I just knew that I lost you and I didn’t give a shit about myself anymore. After we broke up, that’s when I started drinking.”

 

Sansa opens her mouth to speak.

 

“I don’t want you to blame yourself for _anything_ I’m about to say. Can you just… can you wait? Until I tell you everything?” He asks, his heart pounding in his ears, and Sansa’s lips close again. She nods. “This is no one’s fault, but mine. _I’m_ the one who decided that I’d be best, lost in the bottom of a beer bottle. _I’m_ the one who wanted to go through the rest of my life, too drunk to remember anything. Because if I was drunk enough to not remember anything, I wouldn’t remember you either.”

 

He sighs heavily and swallows before continuing. He has to keep continuing until he gets this all out.

 

“One night, I got as drunk as I usually did. Drunk enough to nearly black out. But that never stopped me from driving myself home. It was always a miracle I was never pulled over or killed anyone – or myself – when I did. This night… I don’t know what happened. I still don’t remember. I don’t even remember leaving the pub. I _do_ remember waking up in the hospital though and Robb was there and even after he, and then my parents and the police told me, I still didn’t remember.

 

“But I crashed my car. I crashed right into a tree and in my drunken stupor, before I left the pub, I put on my seatbelt because if I hadn’t, I would have flown right through the windshield, that’s how hard and fast I hit that tree.”

 

Sansa is staring at him, staying silent as she has promised, but her arms are squeezing his arm and her eyes are slightly wide and growing damp with unshed tears.

 

“The front of the car was like an accordion and when I hit the tree, I smacked my head against my door, which had been crushed inwards. This scar is from the twisted metal of the door and broken glass.”

 

He exhales a shaky breath as Sansa does something then. She leans forward and her lips brush along his scar.

 

“Sansa,” he lifts a hand to her cheek so she’s looking at him again. “That’s not…” he swallows. “That’s not all. I blacked out, but when I woke up in the hospital, the doctor told me… I had internal bleeding. Some of it was pretty severe and I… they had to remove my kidney. I’m fine right now,” he rushes on to say. “I’m fine right now and I will keep being fine. I’m not the first person with only one kidney. I’ll need dialysis when I’m older and you’ll have to be the one to drive me. If you want to drive me. I just… that’s not something I want to or should keep from you – especially when you’re going to marry me.”

 

He feels exhausted now. His entire body feels like all of the air has deflated from it and he’s ready to sink into the seat. He’s glad they’re not at the King’s Landing station right now. He has no idea how his legs would be able to carry him off the train.

 

 “Is that when you started to get sober?” Sansa asks quietly.

 

“Yes. That was my rock bottom. But, what really got me to work on getting sober and _staying_ sober, was you.”

 

“Me?” Sansa’s eyes widen as if she never would have expected such a thing.

 

“You came home and you were having a baby and I knew you hated me and would never want anything to ever do with me again, but you and your baby, I wanted to be someone who could be good for both of you.”

 

Sansa looks at him for a moment, studying him, and he actually has no idea what she’s thinking. He can normally read her, but right now, he thinks he’s too drained and his brain is too muddled to concentrate.

 

“Thank you for telling me,” she says softly, her fingertips lifting to his scar. “And I will drive you to dialysis until both of us are too old to be driving and then, I will take the bus to dialysis with you.”

 

He finds himself smiling at that and he leans in, resting his forehead against hers. “Marry me,” he whispers.

 

“Yes,” she whispers back with a faint smile. “Jon, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” She then asks.

 

He pulls his head back and exhales heavily. “Because I’m an asshole who thought you might…” he doesn’t finish. Sansa blinks at him and he knows he doesn’t have to finish. “I’m sorry,” he says instead.

 

“Jon…” Sansa says his name, so soft and so sad, and Jon lifts both of his hands to her cheeks. “My body is _covered_ in scars. Was I afraid that it would turn you away when you saw? Yes. But I showed you anyway.”

 

“I know. I know,” he quickly says with a rapid head nod. “I know and I’m sorry. Sansa…” he exhales her name and breathes in her scent. “You’ve always been so much braver than me.”

 

“I know,” she replies, so quiet, but so matter-of-factly, it actually makes Jon break into a grin and Sansa lets out a quiet giggle.

 

She then leans in and presses her lips to his and Jon’s hands, still framing her face, hold on a little tighter, bringing her in a little closer.

 

“Marry me,” he murmurs again against her lips and he can’t imagine himself ever getting tired of saying those two words to her. They’re almost as good as _I love you_.

 

“Yes.”

 

And he’s relieved that there’s still, after everything he’s told her, absolutely no hesitancy to her answer.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than normal chapters, but Jon and Sansa getting married in King's Landing will be the next chapter and that deserves to be it's very own chapter. Thank you for reading!


	12. Eleven

…

 

**Eleven.**

 

“Someone’s trying to woo you,” Sansa whispers to him as they stand in the lobby of the Red Keep Hotel – the fanciest hotel in King’s Landing and probably in all of Westeros. It is majestic as it stands tall in the city, overlooking Blackwater Bay and the Narrow Sea.

 

“Why?” Jon frowns at that and Sansa just smiles, giving his hand a squeeze.

 

It’s a legitimate question though, in Jon’s opinion. Why would Stannis and Robert Baratheon put up this kind of money just for a weekend and just for him? Who is he? He’s just some contractor from the North with a very small self-owned contracting business while Baratheon Projects is the largest construction company in the South. Why would they care about wooing him?

 

He looks around the opulent hotel lobby with its marble columns and floors, chandeliers and there is even a man in the corner, playing on the grand piano. This is not his style. At all. To put it mildly. But he looks at Sansa and she deserves to be spoiled – even if it’s just for a weekend – and this is a good way to do it. She’ll always be able to say that she stayed in Red Keep Hotel.

 

With their bags and still holding onto her hand, Jon leads them to the check-in desk. “Jon Snow,” he tells the man working there.

 

The man smiles and begins clacking on his computer’s keyboard. “Yes, Mr. Snow. We have a room all set for you with one king-sized bed. Is that alright?”

 

“Perfect,” Jon nods.

 

He looks to Sansa and sees that she’s still stealing glances around the lobby. When she feels his eyes on her, she looks back to him and gives him a smile; one he returns. He then sees the door to the hotel’s restaurant off of the lobby – _Goldsroad_. He knows that that’s where he and Sansa are meeting the Baratheon brothers for dinner tomorrow night. Just from looking through the glass doors, Jon can tell it’s going to be a fancy one.

 

“Here you are, Mr. Snow. Enjoy your stay,” the man smiles, handing Jon two keycards.

 

“Thanks.” Jon hands one of the keys to Sansa as they step away from the desk. “Are you hungry? We can drop our bags off in the room and then see what’s around here,” he suggests.

 

“Do you think we can just get take-out?” Sansa asks. “I’m tired from… everything today,” she then admits.

 

Jon slides a hand to the side of her neck, his thumb brushing her jaw, and he kisses her forehead. “Of course. I didn’t really want to go to some sit-down place anyway.” He’s tired, too. Exhausted really. The secret he has been keeping from her is finally out in the open and the constant weight that has been on his back is gone now, but finally revealing everything to her on the train has really taken it out of him.

 

They take the elevator to the seventh floor and walk down the quiet, carpeted hallway to their room. Outside room 721, Sansa opens the door with her keycard and she then steps in first, holding the door open for Jon to follow in after her with their bags. He takes a quick look around. It’s a typical hotel room with the one, massive bed, a dresser, a table and two chairs and the bathroom. There is a large picture window and Sansa is pulled there, gasping once she sees their view. Jon comes up behind her to look as well, his arms sliding around her waist and pulling her against him.

 

“Not bad,” he muses, looking at the water spread out before them, it looking like the waves are sparkling beneath the sun. “Does pizza sound good with you for dinner?” He asks.

 

“Hmmmm,” Sansa hums, turning her head towards him, her nose brushing along his jaw.

 

It then occurs to Jon that they’re alone. Completely alone in a hotel room without anyone – without Brandon – around. It’s just the two of them. Why is that _now_ just occurring to him?

 

And as if she can read his mind, Sansa’s lips curve into a smile amongst his beard. “We should wait on that.”

 

It’s Jon’s turn to smile now. “We can definitely wait.”

 

His smile widens into a grin and Sansa lets out a shriek of laughter as Jon doesn’t hesitate in lifting her and carrying her over to the bed. She happily drops down onto the white comforter and smiles as Jon begins to already pull off her tennis shoes and her socks.

 

“You are so beautiful,” he says in a near-whisper as he looks at her lying there and she blushes in response.

 

He places a kiss to the bottom of her foot and after taking off his own shoes and socks, he crawls onto the bed, coming over her. Sansa immediately lifts her hands to his cheeks and pulls him down so she can kiss him. Jon happily sinks down on top of her, kissing her, sweeping his tongue into her mouth, listening to her moan. He kisses her as slow as he can stand, tasting her, drinking her down. Sansa can get him that heady feeling of being drunk faster than any beer had ever been able to do to him.

 

“Mmmmm, Jon,” she moans as he breaks his mouth away only to drag it down to the side of her throat and he feels her fingers loosening his hair before scratching through his curls.

 

“We’re alone,” he murmurs against her skin. “You don’t have to bite your lip or bite the pillow to be quiet.”

 

Sansa laughs softly. “I intend on making you moan, too, Jon Snow,” she teases.

 

Jon grins, lifting his head to look down at her. “That won’t be very hard to do, Sansa Stark.”

 

Sansa grows very still at that and within seconds, her eyes are flooding with tears. But she’s smiling, too, so Jon knows he shouldn’t be too concerned, but Sansa on the verge of tears will forever be concerning to him.

 

“What is it?” He asks and he begins to slide off of her so he can lay at her side, but Sansa stops him, wrapping both her arms and legs around him, keeping him on top of her.

 

“It’s my last full day as Sansa Stark,” she tells him. “Tomorrow morning, we’re getting married and then I’ll be Sansa Snow.”

 

Jon looks down to her face – as if in amazement, and he supposes he is. “Sansa Snow,” he then echoes.

 

Gods, that’s all he’s wanted. For _years_. Sansa being his wife. Sansa being his and him being hers. And for a brief period of time, he had thought that it would _never_ happen. But she’s here with him and they’re together and they’re getting married together. And now, Gods, he feels like he’s about to start crying, too.

 

“Marry me?” He asks.

 

“Yes,” she laughs and he grins as he lowers his face towards hers to kiss her again.

 

…

 

After one round, and then ordering pizza and having it delivered to their room, and then one more round, both fall asleep, tangled with one another, Jon feeling Sansa’s warm breath on his neck as they both drift off.

 

But now, his eyes have opened to find that the room is dark and he’s in this massive bed alone.

 

It takes him another moment for his tired brain to realize that Sansa is no longer in the room. As he pulls himself out of the bed, he sees that it’s only ten o’clock. He grabs his boxer briefs from the floor and tugs them back on while seeing the light underneath the closed bathroom door is on. He approaches it and leaning in, listening for Sansa, he doesn’t hear water running or the sounds of someone on the toilet. Instead, he hears her sniffle and just like that, he knows that she’s crying.

 

He tries the knob and is relieved when it turns easily. Sansa is on her cell phone, sitting on the edge of the bathtub, wearing the white tee-shirt he had been wearing earlier beneath his sweater and her underwear. She lifts her eyes when she hears him step into the bathroom and he doesn’t even hesitate in going to her. He sits down beside her and puts both of his arms around her and as Sansa settles more into his side, she takes her phone and puts it on speaker.

 

“One more?” Sansa then asks into the phone.

 

“One more,” Catelyn is the one to answer.

 

Sansa clears her throat and she sniffles and wipes at her cheeks before she begins to sing, her voice just a _little_ bit wobbly.

 

“As I write this letter,

Send my love to you.

Remember that I’ll always,

Be in love with you.

 

“Treasure these few words till we’re together.

Keep all my love forever.

P.S. I love you.”

 

And then, softly and tiredly, they both hear Brandon on the other end of the phone. “You, you, you,” he sings and both Sansa and Jon smile at that.

 

“Are you okay now, baby?” Sansa asks.

 

Brandon is quiet for a moment. “No,” he whispers.

 

Sansa exhales a shaky breath. “Brandon-”

 

“Hi, Little Stark,” Jon jumps in.

 

“Daddy.” Even half-asleep, he is able to sound excited at the sound of Jon’s voice.

 

“Hey, Brandon,” Jon smiles. “Is it alright I took mama away for the weekend?” He asks. “I promise that I’m bringing her home on Sunday. Is that okay?

 

Sansa wipes her cheeks and rests her head on his shoulder and they both wait for Brandon’s answer.

 

And then, after great deliberation from the little boy, Brandon finally answers. “It’s okay,” he says, but sounds absolutely miserable as he does.

 

“It’s just two sleeps, sweetling. Daddy and me will be home before you even know it,” Sansa promises.

 

“And we’re going to have fun, Brandon,” Catelyn speaks up. “We’re going to the zoo tomorrow and Uncle Rickon won’t admit it, but he absolutely loves the zoo and can’t wait to go with you.”

 

“You’ll be able to look at the wolves for as long as you want,” Jon says.

 

“Most certainly,” Catelyn readily promises him. “And we’ll want to get to sleep now so we will have the energy to look at the wolves tomorrow.”

 

“Mama?” Brandon says.

 

Sansa wipes at her cheeks as the tears steadily roll down her cheeks. “I’m here, sweetling.”

 

“I love you, mama.”

 

“I love you, too. I love you so much, Brandon,” Sansa tells him. “And we’ll both be home soon.”

 

After they all say good-night and exchange “I love you”s for the hundredth time, Sansa finally ends the call, but she and Jon remain sitting on the bathtub edge. Sansa is no longer crying, but she’s still sniffling to clear her nose and she wipes at her wet cheeks again. She looks at Jon and does her best to give him a smile.

 

“If you apologize for anything right now, I’m not going to marry you tomorrow,” Jon tells her and it has the desired effect. She lets out a laugh and Jon smiles before kissing her forehead. “Want to get some sleep?”

 

Sansa moves in and presses her lips softly to his. “No,” she whispers, her eyes locking with his.

 

Jon lifts his hands to frame either side of her face. “One more time as Sansa Stark?” He asks.

 

Sansa’s smile is so soft at that, it makes his chest ache. He’s marrying this woman tomorrow. This woman is finally going to be his wife and everything he’s ever wanted in this life is coming true. And all tomorrow.

 

“Or twice,” Jon gives her a smile and Sansa lets out another laugh as he pulls her in for another kiss.

 

…

 

Red Keep Hotel offers a complimentary breakfast and as Sansa is taking a shower, Jon heads down to get them some things to eat before they had off to the Justice of the Peace for their appointment.

 

Because they’re getting married today.

 

Jon’s quite aware that he looks like a deranged idiot, but that doesn’t get him to wipe the grin from his face.

 

He’s getting married today. To Sansa. He and Sansa are getting married today. In less than three hours.

 

No, this grin isn’t going anywhere.

 

The elevator doors open with a ding on the ground floor and as Jon steps out, he sees a young woman struggling with two small children and a diaper bag on her shoulder. Jon puts his arm out so the door won’t close and the woman gives him a breathless “Thank you” as she herds the kids onto the lift.

 

Jon’s still grinning. He wonders if that’s in his and Sansa’s not-so-distance future. Wrestling with kids while they’re on vacation somewhere. He can’t wait to have children with that woman and give Brandon brothers and sisters. A boy named George and if they have a girl, Jon can imagine that Sansa will want to name her Lucy or some other Beatles-friendly name. They are going to have the best damn life, he knows it.

 

After collecting blueberry muffins, a bowl of fruit salad, a coffee for himself and a French vanilla cappuccino for Sansa, he heads back up to their room and when he steps back inside, he nearly drops everything he is balancing on the tray that a hotel worker had given him.

 

Sansa is standing there, already dressed, working on her hair. The dress she wears is long and light, with a black and white pattern, and Jon stares at her, trying to remember when she had looked more beautiful.

 

She turns and faces him. She seems nervous about his reaction, but she still manages to give him a smile.

 

“I know you don’t like that I’ll be wearing pink for our second wedding-” she begins to say.

 

“Sansa, you can wear whatever you want,” Jon is sure to cut in.

 

Sansa continues as if he hasn’t. “But I thought with this dress, I get to wear a little bit of white.”

 

“Sansa, you look…” he trails off, staring at her again, and he then remembers that he’s still holding their breakfast tray.

 

He puts it down on the dresser and then closes the space between them. He puts his arms around her and draws her to him. She is blushing and smiling and Jon has to kiss her in that moment or he might just lose his mind. So he does. He can feel her smiling against his lips before melting into the kiss and slipping her arms around his shoulders.

 

“Marry me?” He asks.

 

“Yes,” she laughs against his lips. “But only if you get dressed.”

 

“I got you a French vanilla cappuccino,” he says and after giving her one more kiss, he goes to his bag to collect his things to get dressed. He’s brought a garment bag – having not let Sansa look to see what he will be wearing to their marriage ceremony.

 

“Oh, I’m definitely marrying you,” Sansa beams as she practically skips over to the dresser and Jon laughs as he heads into the bathroom.

 

He showers and he admits to fussing over his appearance for a bit too long, but it’s all worth it when he steps out of the bathroom and when she gets her first look at him, Sansa’s mouth falls open and she doesn’t seem able to close it.

 

…

 

“Do you have the rings?” Sansa whispers to him.

 

Jon smiles. “I do. And I had them two minutes ago, too.”

 

Sansa lets out a sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just…”

 

“Me, too,” Jon takes her hand and holds onto it. “Do you have the marriage license?” He asks.

 

“I do,” she smiles and then turning her head, she looks to the still-closed office door and pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. “It’s two minutes after eleven.”

 

“It’s okay,” Jon says, squeezing her hand. He won’t say it, but he likes seeing her nervous. He knows that she’s not nervous to marry him, but it’s a nervous energy that he is feeling, too. He just wants to marry her. They’ve waited long enough. “Do you regret getting married this weekend?” He asks.

 

Sansa’s head whips around to look at him, her eyes wide. “Of course not! Do _you_ regret doing this?”

 

Jon can’t help, but smirk a little. “No, Sansa. I’ve been waiting for this moment for too long. I just don’t want you to regret not having any of our family here.”

 

“No. This is for us. And then, we’ll get married again in my parents’ backyard with the flowers and our own vows and everyone there and a party afterwards.”

 

Jon smiles at that and lifting his other hand to the back of her head, he gives her a firm kiss.

 

Both of their heads whip to the door when it is opened and an old, short, bald man with tanned, wrinkled skin appears. When he sees the couple, he smiles.

 

“Jon Snow and Sansa Stark?” He asks.

 

“Yes, that’s us,” Jon says as they both get to their feet. “Justice Baelor?”

 

“That’s me. Are we ready?” He asks.

 

“Oh, yes,” Sansa is the one to answer and Jon smiles at her answer. “And this is for you.” She produces the marriage license and holds it out for the man to take.

 

Justice Baelor takes the paper and pulls a pair of glasses from his pocket, slipping them onto his face. He reads the license, making sure everything is in order, and he then looks to Jon and Sansa.

 

“Shall we?” He smiles.

 

Jon and Sansa follow Justice Baelor into his office. There is a woman there – a bit younger than Justice Baelor, but not by much. With the yellow dress she is wearing and her white hair pulled into a bun at the top of her head that could resemble an eraser, Jon thinks she looks like an pencil.

 

“This is Lynda, my assistant. She will be our witness,” Justice Baelor says, handing the license to her. Jon and Sansa both smile politely at the woman. “Let us have you two stand here. Face one another and hold hands.”

 

Jon and Sansa do as instructed and as they look at one another, Sansa is smiling and seems unable to stop and seeing her smile, feeling her nerves and her excitement, radiating through her hands into his, Jon smiles, too. This is happening. He’s finally getting married to Sansa. His dream is finally coming true today.

 

Justice Baelor stands with them, smiling at them both, and holding his book, he dives right in.

 

“We are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses to join Jon and Sansa in matrimony, which is commended to be honorable among all men; and therefore is not by any to be entered into unadvisedly or lightly, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly and solemnly. Into this estate, these two persons present now come to be joined. If any person can show just cause why they may not be joined together, let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”

 

Jon keeps looking into Sansa’s eyes and Sansa keeps looking into Jon’s. Both can’t stop smiling and Jon runs his thumbs over her knuckles, over and over again.

 

“Jon, repeat after me,” Justice Baelor instructs.

 

“I choose you, Sansa, to be my wife, as my friend and love. On this day, I affirm the relationship we have enjoyed, looking to the future and to keep and strengthen it. I will be yours in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, in failure and in triumph. Together, we will dream, and live as one while respecting one another, we will stumble but restore each other, and we will share all things. I will cherish, comfort, and encourage you, be open with you, and stay with you as long as I shall live.”

 

Jon speaks the vows clear and strong and Sansa has tears gathered in her eyes, but that beautiful smile doesn’t slip from her face. In the back of his mind, Jon wonders if her cheeks are hurting.

 

“Good,” Justice Baelor smiles. “Now, you, Sansa.”

 

Sansa squeezes Jon’s hands and hold on tight.

 

“I choose you, Jon, to be my husband, as my friend and love. On this day, I affirm the relationship we have enjoyed, looking to the future and to keep and strengthen it. I will be yours in plenty and in want, in sickness and in health, in failure and in triumph. Together, we will dream, and live as one while respecting one another, we will stumble but restore each other, and we will share all things. I will cherish, comfort, and encourage you, be open with you, and stay with you as long as I shall live.”

 

Jon feels tears stinging his own eyes.

 

This is really happening. He and Sansa are getting married.

 

“Good. Do you have the rings?”

 

“Yes.” Jon lets go of one of Sansa’s hands so he can pull out the simple silver bands that they have both decided on. He had come to the University on Sansa’s lunch break and together, they had gone to a jewelry store in Wintertown. Picking out their wedding bands had actually taken less time than Jon had thought.

 

Justice Baelor takes the bands and lays them on his book.

 

“Jon, you first.” Jon takes the band for Sansa and holds her left hand. “And repeat after me.”

 

“I, Jon, give you, Sansa, this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

 

Sansa is openly crying now as Jon slides the ring onto her left, third finger. He is so tempted to step forward and kiss her now, but he stops himself. Not yet. Almost, but not yet.

 

“Sansa, you,” Justice Baelor says, turning the book towards her.

 

Sansa takes the ring and Jon’s left hand. She stares into his eyes as she speaks.

 

“I, Sansa, give you, Jon, this ring as an eternal symbol of my love and commitment to you.”

 

He exhales a shaky breath as Sansa slides the ring onto his finger and he finds himself staring down at it. There’s a wedding ring on his finger. _Sansa_ has put a wedding ring on his finger. He looks up when he feels Sansa’s hand on his cheek and she smiles at him as she wipes a tear away. He hasn’t even realized that he’s started crying. He covers her hand with his and grasps it.

 

This is really happening. After everything they’ve both been through – together and separately – this is really happening. He’s moments away from being officially married to Sansa. Until the day he dies, Sansa is his wife.

 

Justice Baelor smiles at them both. “By the power vested in me, by the lands of Westeros, I now pronounce you husband and wife. Jon, you may now kiss the bride.”

 

The man barely gets the words out before Jon steps forward and wrapping his arms around her, and Sansa wrapping her arms around him, Jon kisses his wife.

 

…


	13. Twelve

…

 

 **Twelve**.

 

His wife. His. Wife.

 

His wife is straddling him, her arms tight around his shoulders as she rides him slowly – but not so slow where they both lose their minds. His wife is panting into his ears and releasing the softest, sexiest moans he has ever heard. He is gripping his wife’s hips and kissing any patch of his wife’s skin that his lips can reach. When he sucks on his wife’s collarbone, her head drops back and she lets out the most gorgeous moan.

 

And when he cums, he cums deep inside of his wife.

 

Sansa is trembling on top of him, breathing heavily, and Jon holds her to him tightly, grunting as he releases everything he has inside of her, letting out a groan when he feels Sansa then practically milking him; as if she wants every single last drop that he can give her.

 

“Jon,” Sansa breathes and she pulls her head back so she can look to his face and Jon can’t help, but grin when he sees her. “What?” She asks, her own smile forming at the sight of his own.

 

Jon shakes his head and he brushes some damp strands of hair back from her sweaty face. Sansa Snow is the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen. He has always thought and he always will.

 

“I think my wife is trying to kill me,” Jon says and smiles when Sansa lets out a laugh that sounds so light and so happy, all Jon can do is keep smiling; wondering if he’ll ever stop smiling for the rest of his life.

 

Jon falls backwards on the bed, bringing Sansa with him, and she lets out a squeal of laughter. Jon, grinning, lifts his head and presses his lips to the side of her throat and Sansa hums contently. She lifts her head and glancing towards the nightstand on the other side of the bed, she then looks down to him.

 

 “We’re going to have to start getting ready soon,” she tells him; to which Jon immediately groans in response and Sansa smiles, dipping her head down, kissing his chin.

 

“Just a few more minutes,” Jon says while his arms tighten around her. “I just want to stay like this for a few more minutes.”

 

Sansa doesn’t protest. She simply smiles and lays her head down on his shoulder, her forehead to his jaw.

 

“I have a serious question for you,” Jon says. “So, if we have a son, we’re naming him George, but what if we have a daughter? Lucy?”

 

“That’s a bit obvious, isn’t it?” Sansa asks, lifting her head, still smiling. “Why not Penny Lane or Martha My Dear or Lovely Rita or Julia?”

 

Jon cracks a grin and shrugs. “I’m fine with any of those,” he says and he is. He really is. The name of their maybe someday daughter can be whatever Sansa wants. Jon just wants a child with Sansa. The name doesn’t matter because no matter the name, it will be absolutely perfect for their child.

 

Sansa smiles and brushes her lips across his cheek before resting her head on his shoulder again. “I’ve always imagined that if I’ve ever had a daughter, I would name her Eleanor,” she then confesses in a quiet voice, her warm breath passing over his skin.

 

 _Eleanor Snow_ , Jon recites to himself, unable to stop himself from smiling and tightening his arms around Sansa. His lips go to her forehead, resting there, inhaling her scent.

 

“That’s perfect,” he murmurs and he doesn’t need to see Sansa’s face right to know that she’s smiling.

 

 _Hello. I’m Jon Snow and this is my wife, Sansa, and these are our children, Brandon, George and Eleanor_ , Jon recites in his head and he can’t help the faint smile that forms across his lips. Yes, that’s absolutely perfect.

 

He then exhales a breath. He knows he and Sansa need to get ready. Their dinner with the Baratheon brothers downstairs will be soon and although he is the one being wooed – as Sansa likes to tell him – Jon still isn’t the sort who likes to be late and keep others waiting for him. They’ll go to dinner downstairs and, hopefully, it will last for two or so hours and then they can come back up to their room to continue their honeymoon before they catch the train to return home tomorrow.

 

The sooner they go downstairs to dinner, the sooner they can come back here.

 

He’s pulled from his thoughts when he feels Sansa’s lips curve into a smile against his shoulder.

 

“What?” Jon wonders.

 

Sansa lifts her head to look down to him, her body still draped over his, their skin still dotted with sweat.

 

“I was just thinking. You’re my husband,” she says and as she says it, her smile only grows.

 

Jon looks up at her and lets out some sort of growl before he takes hold of her head, pulling her down for a kiss and he then flips their bodies over so she’s beneath him now, making her laugh against his lips. He can feel himself growing hard again and they don’t have time for another round; at least, not the kind of round he wants with his wife.

 

But that doesn’t stop him from kissing Sansa slowly, deeply, and he pushes himself up on one arm so his other hand can run down her body, touching her with soft caresses and listening to her moaning softly in response. Sansa lifts her hands to run through his hair and hold it back from his face as her kisses matched his own. Beneath his hand, Jon can feel the raised skin and various bumps and scars that cover his wife’s body.

 

The first few times they had been naked for one another since they had gotten back together, Sansa had nearly flinched every time his hands would touch her body, coming in contact with one of her scars that riddled her body now; reminders of her time with Ramsay – as if it’s something she’d be able to forget.

 

Now though, she doesn’t flinch or try to shy away from him when his hands come in contact with any of them. If anything, she silently begs for him to touch her more, always turning her body closer to him.

 

She’s talked with him about the scars. She says that she knows she can get them removed, but she doesn’t want to. She likes keeping the scars to remind herself what she went through and remind herself that she survived everything that was done to her.

 

“Is that okay?” Sansa had asked after she told him.

 

Jon had kissed her and told her that it didn’t matter to him. This is her body and he made sure that Sansa believed him when he told her that she’s the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

 

There’s only one scar that Sansa is going to be getting rid of. An “R” for Ramsay carved in the small of her back. She’s waiting until the summer to meet with a plastic surgeon though when it will be a bite easier for her to get some time off from work.

 

Depending on how tonight goes with the Baratheon brothers, Jon would, again, like to approach the topic of her leaving her job at the library. He wants to tread carefully though. He doesn’t want Sansa that he is trying to control her or that he is demanding that she stay at home, but rather, he knows that while she loves working at the library and it’s a great job to have, he also knows that designing clothes is her true passion and if she was at home, she’d be able to do it to her heart’s content, not to mention being able to spend all of the days with Brandon without having to take him to daycare.

 

He’ll see how tonight goes though. He might not want to merge Snow Construction with Baratheon Projects after all and if he doesn’t, he makes decent money, but definitely not enough to support Sansa and their children _comfortably_ , which is what Sansa and Brandon deserve and nothing less.

 

Their lips slowly pry apart when they hear the ding of Sansa’s cell phone, alerting her to a text message. Knowing that it’s probably from her parents, Jon – reluctantly – moves his body off of hers so Sansa can pull herself from the bed to collect her phone from her purse on the dresser. Jon’s eyes blatantly watch her as she stands at the dresser, looking down to her phone, completely naked.

 

Seriously, this woman is _his wife_. After everything, all of the mistakes and years apart, this still doesn’t feel real to him. Sansa is his wife and he is Sansa’s husband. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to it, to be honest.

 

Sansa lets out a quiet giggle then, watching something on her phone, and she turns to Jon. “Look, Jon.”

 

Jon sits up and Sansa comes to sit down next to him on the edge of the bed. Before she can press play, Jon’s already smiling. From the still frame, he can tell that it’s a video of the Stark family visit to the zoo that day. Sansa presses the play button and Brandon is on Ned’s shoulders and he, Ned, Catelyn and Rickon are all standing at one of the animal exhibits.

 

“Look, Grampa!” Brandon exclaims and points his finger.

 

“I see, buddy,” Ned chuckles and Catelyn moves the phone from filming Brandon and Ned to show what Brandon is pointing at. Rickon is leaning against the fencing that surrounds the area, excited as well, as they all watch the grey wolf come out from behind the bushes.

 

“Pretty wolf,” Brandon than coos. “I want one, Granma!” He then exclaims, looking towards the camera/Catelyn with a wide grin.

 

Catelyn laughs from behind the screen. “You can ask your mama and daddy when they get home.”

 

Sansa lets out a laugh and wipes her cheek with one of her hands. Jon smiles and puts his arm around her, pressing his lips to her temple.

 

She smiles at him and then looks back to her phone. She watches the video one more time and then with a happy sigh, she sets her phone aside. “I’m going to call after I shower and am wearing clothes again. And we really do have to get a move on so we’re not late for the dinner. It won’t reflect well upon you and Snow Construction if we’re late to a dinner with your possible business partners.”

 

Jon just smiles. He can get used to this. He _will_ get used to this – he already is – because even though Sansa has already told him that she won’t be a nagging wife, Jon is excited for her to be.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Snow.”

 

Sansa looks at him and a slow smile spreads across her lips. “Mrs. Snow,” she echoes in a whisper and leans in, resting her forehead to his.

 

Jon’s smile grows wider. Oh, yes. He’s definitely already used to this.

 

…

 

“There they are!” Robert Baratheon booms as Jon and Sansa enter the Red Keep Hotel’s restaurant, Goldsroad, his brother, Stannis, much quieter and remaining sitting as Robert stands up.

 

Sansa smiles and breaking away from Jon, she walks ahead to go to Robert, the man sweeping her into a tight hug. “Hi, Robert,” she smiles at the man that has been her father’s best friend for most of their lives, Ned having even named his first born son after his old friend.

 

When Robert and his wife, Cersei, divorced, it became a tradition that Robert would visit the North to spend the Christmas holiday with his Ned Stark and his family.  Jon has known the man for a long time now because of that and Jon has never had any ill-feelings towards the man. Robert Baratheon is loud and boisterous, sometimes crude – but harmlessly so – and he likes his whiskey a bit too much, but that’s none of Jon’s business. Jon just wisely keeps his interactions limited with the man once Robert has had a few too many.

 

Jon doesn’t know his brother, Stannis Baratheon, at all, but Ned had told him that Stannis is nearly the complete opposite of Robert and to Jon, that means that Stannis is the one to really run Baratheon Projects.

 

“Robert, you know Jon,” Sansa takes a step back and smiles at Jon as he comes to step up beside her.

 

“Of course I know Jon,” Robert says and without any type of warning, he drags Jon into a hug that nearly crushes at least some of his bones, Jon is certain. “This is my baby brother, Stannis.”

 

Stannis stands then, not seeming to be amused by Robert’s description of him.

 

“Nice to finally meet you, Jon Snow,” Stannis says, holding out his hand. Compared to his older brother, Stannis is as serious as stone.

 

“Nice to meet you as well, Mr. Baratheon,” Jon says in return, shaking the offered hand, his stomach a mess of knots right now. “This is my wife, Sansa Snow.”

 

The words leave his mouth before he can stop them and he quickly looks back to Sansa to see her reaction. She’s only smiling though and doesn’t seem at all concerned that he’s already let the cat out of the bag.

 

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Baratheon,” Sansa steps forward and shakes Stannis’s hand as well.

 

“As you, Mrs. Snow,” Stannis says with a slight dip of his head and Sansa and Jon both smile at the title.  

 

“Wife, eh?” Robert says with a grin. “I better not have missed the reception.”

 

“You didn’t,” Sansa assures him as they all take their seats at the table, Jon holding Sansa’s chair out for her and she smiling at him from over her shoulder.

 

The tables in Goldsroad are rectangles with two chairs on either side. Sansa and Jon sit on one side as Robert and Stannis settle themselves on the other side, Jon finding himself across Stannis – which he thinks is the way Stannis has wanted it. Stannis and Jon will be able to talk business while Sansa keeps Robert entertained.

 

Jon is thankful that Sansa is seated next to him. They are back to wearing the clothes they had gotten married in that morning after their showers – separate showers, Sansa had insisted, so they wouldn’t be running late – and just seeing her next to him, looking absolutely beautiful, laughing at something Robert has said, the unscented candle in the middle of the table, catching the diamond engagement ring on her finger that she still wears alongside with her wedding band, Jon feels like he is breathing as easily as if this was just any other dinner with family friends rather than the serious business dinner it is in truth.

 

“It’s going to be a surprise to our parents when we return home tomorrow,” Sansa tells Robert. “So, please. _Please_ , don’t say anything to my father about it.”

 

Robert chuckles. “I won’t, Sansa. I promise. But now, we must celebrate.” With that, he signals a server.

 

Jon catches the nervous glance Sansa throws in his direction, but Jon just smiles and shakes his head.

 

He leans in to her ear. “It’s alright, love,” he whispers to her. “You can celebrate.”

 

Sansa still looks unsure and Jon finds her hand under the table and gives it a squeeze and smiles.

 

Sansa still seems a bit hesitant, but when their server arrives, Sansa orders a glass of white wine. Robert orders himself another whiskey and both Jon and Stannis stick with water.

 

When it comes to ordering, and both Baratheon brothers assure them that they can get anything they want, Sansa orders the lobster tail with asparagus and Jon orders the filet mignon, medium rare, with garlic mashed potatoes. Robert and Stannis place their own orders and then, Robert pulls Sansa into a conversation, asking how Ned is and everyone else in the North.

 

Jon looks at Stannis Baratheon sitting across from him. Unlike Robert, Stannis is a bit taller, a lot leaner, with gray hair shaved close to his scalp. He is a very serious man and Jon wonders if he’s actually ever smiled. It doesn't look like it.

 

“You have built quite a reputation for yourself in the North, Jon Snow,” Stannis says.

 

“Have I?” Jon can’t help, but be a bit surprised at that. He then shrugs. “I just do the job I’m paid to do.”

 

“And you do it well,” Stannis adds. “My brother and I have bid on several projects in the North and each time, when we lose out on that project – usually being just in second place – we find out that we lose to Snow Construction and most times, we lose just by mere dollars.”

 

Jon isn’t too sure what to say to that. He has a head for accurate estimating. He’s not sure how he can explain that to the man across from him. It’s just the thing he’s good at. Like Sansa is good at sewing pieces of cloth together and making something beautiful, Jon can look down at a blueprint and figure out how much it will cost to turn the blueprint into an actual building.

 

“There have also even been times when we _didn’t_ lose the bid, but we were told that the engineers have chosen to go with another contractor,” Stannis continues. “And I’m sure you know who that contractor is.”

 

Again, Jon doesn’t know what to say. Thankfully, the server returns with his water because his throat is feeling too dry right then and he tries to take a small sip rather than desperate gulps.

 

“Around the third time that happened, Robert and I began talking. In order to grow our company, we obviously need help with the Northern region of Westeros and we have to get someone from the North who will be able to take our company to that next level and be the premiere construction company.”

 

“And you really think I could help?” Jon is finally able to speak.

 

“I do. My brother thinks as well. And Ned Stark’s opinion of you only adds to our thoughts on the matter.”

 

 Sansa clears her throat. “Excuse me. I need to use the restroom.”

 

The three men at the table stand up as Sansa stands up and giving a smile to Jon – a smile Jon returns – Sansa then leaves, heading through the restaurant towards the bathrooms in the back. The three men sit again.

 

“So, Jon, what do you think?” Robert asks.

 

“I actually haven’t talked with him about it yet,” Stannis tells his brother. “I was just beginning.”

 

“Bah. Obsessed with the small print, this one is,” Robert cocks his head towards Stannis while keeping his eyes on Jon. “Let’s just cut to the meat, shall we?”

 

“Robert-” Stannis frowns.

 

“You keep your name. Your people. You’ve obviously got a good business for yourself and we’re not looking to change any way you operate. You come under the Baratheon Projects umbrella. You’ll have more money to work with – more trucks, more tools. Whatever you need. You’ll be able to hire more people – if you want. You’ll be able to give your people and yourself pay raises. You talk with me and Stannis at least twice a week to keep us updated on everything you’re doing, upcoming bids, ongoing projects – that sort of thing. And you come down here to King’s Landing at least four times a year so we can meet in person if Stannis or me don’t head up North first.”

 

Robert finishes his speech with a gulp of whiskey.

 

Stannis continues frowning at Robert and Jon sits there, once again, unable to say anything; needing time to process all of that information. One thing is really sticking out in his head though.

 

_You’ll be able to give your people and yourself pay raises._

He had wanted to meet with Stannis and Robert Baratheon first before talking with Tormund, Edd and Val about a possible merge, but with the promise of more money, Jon can’t imagine anyone being against it. He’s certainly not against more money. It might make him sound selfish, but when is more money ever a bad thing? He has a wife and a son now. He will, hopefully, have more children with his wife someday and taking care of a family, that requires money.

 

He started Snow Construction from nothing and worked himself constantly, to the bone, to make it into something; to build it into something where the largest construction company in Westeros wants him.

 

Jon nearly blurts out “yes” right then and there, but thankfully, he’s able to swallow the word down.

 

He has to talk with Tormund, Edd and Val still.

 

He has to talk with Ned one more time to get more of his advice.

 

And he has to talk with his wife and what this could mean for their family.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your continued love and support of this universe! It seriously means so much to me.


	14. Thirteen

…

 

**Thirteen.**

Sansa is practically bouncing in her seat as they get closer and Jon can’t help, but grin as he turns down the road that leads to the Stark home.

 

“I’m a little insulted,” he lets her know. “So eager to end the weekend we spent together?”

 

“Oh, stop,” Sansa tells him with a roll of her eyes; the smile evident as it twitched the corners of her mouth. “I’ve just missed him so much. I never want to be away from him again.”

 

“What about when he goes off to college?” Jon asks innocently.

 

Sansa gasps and promptly shoots her arm out, slapping him in the stomach, making him let out a laugh.

 

“Never, _ever_ say that again, Jon Snow,” she says with narrowed eyes.

 

“Yes, dear,” Jon replies, still chuckling. “Before we see everyone again though, what do you want to do about our wedding bands?” He asks as he then turns the truck onto the long private drive that leads to the front gate, glancing towards Sansa and seeing that she’s blinking at him. “What?” He asks.

 

“What do you mean, what about our wedding bands?” Sansa asks, her brow furrowed ever so slightly.

 

“I don’t know if you want to take them off, just until we tell everyone, or if you want to keep wearing them.”

 

Jon rolls down his window and leans out to hit the code on the security pad of the Stark’s front gates.

 

“Well… am I your wife here, too, or just down in King’s Landing?” Sansa asks. Jon isn’t sure the face he must be giving at her question, but whatever the expression, it makes Sansa laugh. “That’s what I thought.”

 

“So… rings on?” Jon then asks – just to be sure.

 

“Yes, Jon,” Sansa smiles.

 

After their train had arrived at the station and they were walking their way back to Jon’s truck that he had parked for the weekend in the lot, Sansa had sent a text message to her mom to let her know that she and Jon were heading their way. And sure enough, when Jon drives the truck up the drive, Sansa can see Catelyn standing on the front porch with Brandon at her side, his hand tucked into hers so he doesn’t go running, the little boy bouncing much like his mama is right now.

 

Jon smiles and he can see that Sansa is about to start crying, but she’s also trying hard to control herself.

 

“Let me at least park,” Jon says when he sees Sansa’s fingers already curling around the door handle and she doesn’t open the door, yet, but as soon as Jon has stopped the truck, her door is flung open and she practically flies from the truck. Jon snickers as he actually shifts the truck into park and turns the engine off.

 

“Mama! Mama!” Brandon is exclaiming, full-fledged jumping now, and Catelyn releases his hand so he’s allowed to run. He scurries down the steps, nearly tripping, and before his feet can even touch the ground, Sansa has scooped him up in her arms.

 

“Oh, my Brandon. My sweetling.” Sansa hugs him tightly and kisses his face again and again. “I missed you so, so much. Did you miss me, too?”

 

Brandon hugs her tight, his arms around her neck. “Missed you, mama,” he nods and Sansa kisses his head. “Daddy!” Brandon then exclaims as Jon comes to them and Jon grins, his heart churning in his chest.

 

He knows he’ll never get tired of ever hearing Brandon say that word to him whenever he sees him.

 

Sansa gives Brandon one more kiss and then turns towards Jon so Jon can take Brandon from her arms to his. And then he begins imagining Brandon as a big brother to George and Eleanor. And then he begins wondering how soon he can get Sansa pregnant with either George or Eleanor. Maybe she’s actually already pregnant. There had certainly been the opportunity for it to happen during the weekend.

 

But would Sansa be happy if she turns out to be pregnant this soon? After all, they haven’t even been married for a complete forty-eight hours yet and if she’s pregnant, Jon would like her to stay at home instead of going to work. Is that too cave-man of him? He’s mentioned to her that he would like her to stop working and stay home and she seems to at least be thinking of the idea, but he knows she hasn’t come to decision. What if Sansa is pregnant and that’s not what she wants right now? What if everything is happening too soon for her? So much is changing and Jon knows things are going to keep changing and shit.

 

The last thing he wants to do is push Sansa’s life into being something she’s not ready for yet or something she doesn’t even want yet.

 

How late can a woman work in their pregnancy? It doesn’t matter. He’s not her boss or her master. He’s her husband, but she’ll be pregnant with his baby and if he doesn’t want her working at all, he’s allowed to tell her that, right? He doesn’t own her and she can obviously make her own decisions, but-

 

“I knew it!” Catelyn suddenly exclaims, cutting into Jon’s thoughts that are quickly becoming rambling.

 

Catelyn has come down the steps after her grandson to welcome them home and she had been hugging Sansa tightly, but now, she is staring at Jon’s hand and he realizes that as he holds Brandon, Catelyn can clearly see his left hand – and the wedding ring on his finger.

 

“I told Ned you two were going to King’s Landing to get married and he didn’t believe me, but I knew.”

 

“How?” Sansa asks, her eyes slightly wide.

 

“Mother’s intuition,” Catelyn says with a smile and then lifts Sansa’s left hand to look at her matching band.

 

Jon’s fairly certain there’s nothing more frightening in this world than mother’s intuition.

 

“We’re going to get married again,” Sansa is quick to tell her. “I couldn’t have you and dad and Brandon miss me getting married. This weekend… this time was just for Jon and me.”

 

Catelyn smiles and her eyes are wet and she folds Sansa into another hug. And Jon sees that Sansa’s eyes are matching in wetness before she closes them and hugs her mom just as tightly in return.

 

Jon exhales a breath that had been trapped in his lungs. Not that he had thought that Catelyn wouldn’t approve. After all, everyone knows that they were engaged. But Catelyn and Sansa have a special relationship with one another; they are closer than most mothers and daughters – not that he knows a lot about mother/daughter relationships, but Catelyn and Sansa are exceptionally close and Jon knows that Catelyn’s opinion means so much to Sansa.

 

He knows that when Sansa had come home a few years earlier – pregnant with Brandon – Catelyn had been the first one to see all of the damage that Ramsay had done to Sansa, taking pictures to give to the police. And for her first few months back home, when Sansa couldn’t have the lights off or be alone, she often slept with her mom in a shared bed.

 

Catelyn whispers something in Sansa’s ear and Jon can’t hear it, but whatever it is, Sansa giggles softly and just at the sound, Jon smiles a little. Catelyn then pulls away from Sansa and even with Brandon still in his arms, Catelyn hugs him next.

 

“I am so happy for you two,” Catelyn whispers to him.

 

Jon smiles and with one arm holding Brandon, his other circles his new mother-in-law.

 

Catelyn pulls back and wipes at her wet eyes, still smiling happily. She kisses Brandon on the cheek and then looks to them all. “Lady and Ghost are in the backyard and they are going to be beyond ecstatic to see that you’re home. And I’m making tacos for dinner and you _will_ be staying. You’ve been traveling and the last thing anyone wants to do is go home and make a meal after traveling.”

 

Jon knows that tone of Catelyn’s. There’s no arguing with that tone.

 

Catelyn turns and heads back up the steps, disappearing into the house. Jon gives Brandon a kiss on the cheek and then sets the toddler down on his feet. Brandon beams up at him and then reaches up, taking his mama’s hand. Sansa smiles down at him and holds tightly onto his hand. She then looks to Jon, the smile still on her face, and Jon can’t stop himself from leaning in and giving her a kiss.

 

“Are you ready?” He asks her.

 

“For tacos or for telling the rest of the family?” Sansa asks, her eyes twinkling.

 

Jon smiles. “I was most worried about telling your mom,” he confesses.

 

Sansa lets out a laugh as she guides Brandon towards the steps and slowly, they begin to climb them, Jon following after. “That’s funny because I’m most worried about telling _your_ mom.”

 

…

 

As he expected, the rest of the Stark family gathered there that evening for dinner - though it's just Ned and Rickon tonight - are nothing but happy for them. There are hugs and kisses and Sansa promising again to Ned that she and Jon are definitely planning on getting married again with both of their families present and maybe they could do it in the Stark backyard?

 

“I have to still show Jon, but I’m been pinning a lot and I’ve been getting a lot of ideas,” Sansa says as the family all sits around the large dining room table.

 

Catelyn has cooked pork and ground beef and has both hard taco shells as well as soft tortillas and all possible taco fixings. For just tacos and Spanish rice, it is quite the feast spread out before them. Brandon insists on eating, sitting in Sansa’s lap, and Ghost has yet to let Jon out of his sights. The trip down to King’s Landing had been nice – he did get married there, after all – Jon thinks, but it feels better to be back home.

 

“Don’t worry about the costs of things,” Ned tells Sansa. “I know you’ve already told us that you and Jon want to pay for the majority of it, but your mother and I are determined to give you the wedding you want and we’re going to take care of costs.”

 

“Dad…” Sansa begins to protest as they all know she would do.

 

“My parents have already offered to me that they would pay for the band,” Jon speaks up. “I figured we could find a really good Beatles cover band,” he then says to Sansa and she smiles at that.

 

“What about food?” Rickon asks from across Sansa, working on fixing himself his third taco.

 

“We’re going to have a burger bar,” Jon answers with a smile.

 

He’s not going to lie. He’s pretty damn excited about having a burger bar at his wedding reception.

 

“That sounds awesome,” Rickon says, his eyes already wide and gleaming with excitement. “Is it what I’m thinking it is?”

 

“If you’re picturing an all-you-can eat burger buffet with all of the fixings and fries, than yes,” Jon grins.

 

Rickon’s eyes seem to gleam even more at that.

 

“Whatever you two want,” Ned promises. “Giving you your dream wedding is our present to you.”

 

“How’s the dress coming, dear?” Catelyn asks Sansa as Sansa helps Brandon guide his spoon of rice into his mouth before taking a forkful for herself.

 

Sansa nods, her cheeks a faint pink. “It’s turning out _exactly_ how I envisioned it. I might actually bring it over here to work on. _Not_ that I don’t trust Jon to not peek, but our house is so small, I’m always worried about him walking into the sunroom on accident while I’m working on it.”

 

That’s another thing he has to talk with her about. The possibility of moving into a house a bit bigger.

 

He really doesn’t know how to approach that topic with her though. Their current house is everything to Sansa and represents so much to her. He knows that that house, to Sansa, represents the start of her life.

 

And it had been the perfect size for Sansa, Brandon and Lady.

 

With him now though and Ghost, it’s a little tight of a fit and Jon has no idea where they will put the baby once they have one. There are only two bedrooms and neither are extravagantly large. They will definitely need a bigger house with their plans on expanding their family. Maybe something closer to his mom and Arthur. Jon’s fairly certain that they can afford one of the houses in that neighborhood – maybe easily if he agrees to go with Baratheon Projects.

 

“Oh, please do. I would love to see it,” Catelyn smiles at her.

 

“I found the most gorgeous pink blush fabric at Mordane’s…” Sansa and Catelyn continue to talk about the dress Sansa is making for their second wedding and Jon begins constructing his fourth taco of the night.

 

He doesn’t know how Catelyn does it, but anything the woman cooks in her kitchen is just always fantastic.

 

“And how did the meeting go?” Ned pulls his attention towards him.

 

Jon pauses a moment, trying to think of a good adjective to use. “Good,” he finally decides on. “I think really good. I still need to talk to my guys and to Sansa, as well, before I make my final decision.”

 

Ned nods in approval at that. “Any idea which way you’re leading?”

 

Again, Jon pauses. “I do. The deal they offered me almost is _too_ good to pass up.”

 

“I gave Robert a call a few days ago. Told him that if he and Stannis even _thought_ of screwing you over in this deal, they’d have to answer to me and Robert knows me well enough by now to know that that’s not something he wants.”

 

Jon gives his father-in-law a small smile. “Thank you for that, Ned. What it really comes down to, I suppose, is if I want to keep being my own boss or if I won’t mind answering to someone else.”

 

“Well, look at it this way. It’s not like Robert and Stannis will be up here constantly, checking on you. They obviously feel that you’re competent and know what you’re doing. There’d be no need to babysit you.”

 

Jon nods and pauses to take a bite of his taco. “Stannis and Robert… they’re quite different from one another,” he comments after chewing and swallowing.

 

Ned gives a smile at that. “You didn’t meet their younger brother – the youngest Baratheon. Renly. None of the brothers in that family are alike and that’s putting it lightly. What did they offer you, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ned then asks. “Rickon, can you pass the rice?”

 

“More money,” Jon answers simply.

 

“Ah,” Ned nods knowingly. “I know people don’t like to admit it, but that’s always pretty important, isn’t it?”

 

Jon looks to Sansa sitting next to him and Brandon sitting in her lap, Sansa wiping at Brandon’s mouth with a napkin and the boy chattering to his mama about the wolves he saw in the zoo yesterday.

 

Jon then looks back to Ned, who is watching him, watching Sansa and Brandon, with a faint smile across his lips. Jon smiles a little in return.

 

“It is,” he nods.

 

…

 

After letting Ghost and Lady out in their backyard one more time for the night and then locking the house up, setting the alarm, Jon goes into Brandon’s bedroom to give the sleeping boy one more kiss goodnight. He’s very happy to be home, Sansa able to get him ready for bed and he going to sleep without any problems.

 

In his and Sansa’s bedroom, he closes the door so he can begin changing into his pajamas. Sansa is already wearing hers: a grey sweater that used to be his years earlier, but now belonged only to her and a pair of little sleeping shorts with little pink strawberries printed on them. She is sitting up in their bed, her laptop open on her knees.

 

“Did you buy the tickets?” He asks.

 

“Yes, I just finalized our order,” she sighs. “It’s going to be awful.”

 

“Without a doubt,” Jon agrees with a smile.

 

He hasn’t been a parent that long, but he figures this is what it is – going to a _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ Live event because their little son is absolutely mad for the show.

 

After changing into his own pajamas, he opens the door once again to go into the bathroom and toss his dirty clothes into the hamper. With a tired sigh, he then pulls himself into their bed, instantly laying down. It feels so good to be home and sleeping in their own bed again, he can’t even explain it. There’s just something about the South. Jon can never envision himself ever being comfortable anywhere down there. Though he does admit that now, King’s Landing does hold something special for him – the memory of _finally_ having Sansa become his wife.

 

“Can I show you something or are you already drifting off?” Sansa asks.

 

“No,” Jon shakes his head even as he yawns. “You can show me.”

 

He pushes himself up into a sitting position and watches as Sansa directs the mouse to her Pinterest home page. She moves it towards her “Snow x Stark Wedding” board, but something catches his attention before she can click on it.

 

“What’s that?” He asks, pointing towards another board; a board titled “Welcome Home”.

 

“Oh,” Sansa says and she’s blushing faintly now. “It’s just a board of things I imagined in my dream home.”

 

“May I see it?” Jon asks.

 

Sansa hesitates for a moment and then clicks on the requested board. Jon looks at the pictures of Dutch doors, farmhouse kitchen sinks and white-tiled bathrooms.

 

“I like that,” he notes, referring to a picture of a laundry room – a flat wooden surface built across the washing machine and dryer to provide space for storage as well as folding clothes. He turns his head to look at Sansa as she looks at the screen, her lower lip between her teeth. “What?” He then asks.

 

Sansa shakes her head and it seems as if she isn’t going to answer, but she then sighs. “I love this house so much. This house… I know it might seem silly, but this house _saved_ me.”

 

“I know, Sansa,” Jon interjects.

 

“But-” she continues as if he hasn’t. “But we have two _big_ dogs and one day, maybe soon, we’re going to have two children and a baby has so many things and this house is so wonderful, but we might want to spread out a bit more and there’s just no room to do that here.”

 

“Sansa,” Jon begins to say.

 

“But buying a house is such a huge commitment and it costs so much money, but,” she pauses to take another deep breath and she turns her head to look at him. “Do you think we should start looking for another house that better fits us? This house, when I bought it, it was perfect for a me and Brandon house, but now, we’re married and we’re building a family and maybe this house isn’t as perfect as it was last year.”

 

Jon looks at her for a moment and then slowly, he takes her laptop. He closes it and sets it safely aside before sweeping his hands over Sansa – one hand resting on her thigh and the other moving to the side of her head. He leans in and kisses her and Sansa’s responding kisses are immediate.

 

Slowly, Jon guides her back into the pillows behind them and he feels Sansa’s hands sweeping beneath his tee-shirt. He pulls away only long enough to tug it off and then he’s on top of her again. He feels her finger dancing lightly over the scar of where his kidney used to be.

 

“I’ll live with you anywhere, Sansa Snow,” he murmurs against her lips and Sansa smiles against his before lifting her arms up so he can take her sweater off.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for reading and reviewing!


	15. Fourteen

…

 

**Fourteen.**

“So, we getting fired then?” Tormund asks.

 

Jon promptly begins choking on the gulp of Coke he has just taken. He begins frantically shaking his head and he manages to swallow before he dies right on the spot.

 

“No,” Jon answers firmly; emphatically. “No, no one is getting fired or losing their jobs.”

 

Tormund, Edd and Val are all looking at him, looking as if they _want_ to believe him, but can’t quite get there.

 

Jon takes a deep breath. “I promise you. The proposal Baratheon Projects presented to me, it sounds like they want us more than we want them and they are going to be pretty flexible when it comes to things they want. I was assured that no one is going to lose their jobs. They aren’t looking to change anything about Snow Construction. I promise. Snow Construction, the way it is now, with this team of four, this is the reason Baratheon Projects wants us in the first place.”

 

Tormund, Edd and Val all exchange looks with one another, thinking that over, before looking back to Jon.

 

He thought this would be the best way to do this. He thought taking them all out to lunch and then telling them about Baratheon Projects would be the best way to do this. In the bathroom that morning, once out of the shower and standing at the sink, looking at himself in the mirror, he had gone over his talking points.

 

His biggest fear is that he would tell his team about this possible business venture and they would want to quit. If that happened, he wouldn’t accept anything with the Baratheon Brothers. He can’t lose his team. The four of them work so well together and all four of them are the reason Baratheon Projects even took notice of them and the work they have accomplished together in the first place.

 

“In fact, they said that if we wanted to hire more people, we’d be able to.”

 

“We?” Val questions.

 

Jon nods. “I’m not making a decision without any of you.”

 

“That’s not really our call, is it, Jon?” Edd speaks up now, leaning back as Tormund reaches over him to get the bottle of ketchup, Edd keeping his eyes on Jon across the table from him. “It’s your company. If you want to hire or not hire, that should be your call. Not ours. We just work for you.”

 

“You’re more than that, Edd,” Jon tells him. “You and Tormund, you’ve been with me since the beginning and Val, we really started becoming something when you came on board. If we grow, we can get you another electrician or two if you’d want. If we had more people, we’d finally be able to bid on some of the really big projects we sometimes have to pass up on.”

 

“What about money?” Tormund asks through a mouthful of fries.

 

Jon nods. “There’d be raises for all of us.”

 

Edd, Val and Tormund all look at him.

 

“Good raises,” Jon adds. “And better health insurance and they’d handle payroll for me and I just… I think this is the best direction to take Snow Construction in.”

 

He takes a deep breath as he looks at his three employees. But they’re not just that. They’re his friends. Tormund and Edd have been with him since Snow Construction opened for business and Val might be newer, but that doesn’t make her any less important. He can’t imagine there being a Snow Construction – whether  they join Baratheon Projects or not – without these three.

 

“You should have led with that then,” Tormund says.

 

Jon looks at him and then moves his eyes to Edd, who is smirking.

 

“You really should have,” he says and Jon starts to smile a little, too.

 

“So… yes?” Jon then asks them all, still a little unsure; just wanting to make sure.

 

“Yes, Jon,” Val gives him a warm smile. “If this is what you feel is the thing to do, we’re with you.”

 

Jon exhales heavily. “Thank you,” he says as gracious as a person can, looking at all three of them. “There was no way I was going to accept anything from Baratheon Projects without having you three with me.”

 

“You get us more money, and we’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, mate,” Tormund says, never pausing in pushing more fries into his mouth.

 

“And we love you, too,” Val adds with a smile.

 

Jon smiles, too, and this time, he feels confident he can take a sip of Coke without choking. They continue eating their burgers and fries and talking about things other than work – mainly about him and Sansa getting married and the wedding reception that they are still having. When they are nearly finished, the waitress comes again and asks if they want anything else. Tormund glances at Jon from the corner of his eye.

 

“Go for it,” Jon says, smiling.

 

“Two pieces of peanut butter pie, love,” Tormund gives the waitress a wide grin.

 

“One for me,” Edd adds.

 

“Me, too!” Val exclaims.

 

Jon’s phone begins vibrating next to his plate and he sees that it’s Sansa. “Just bring us one peanut butter pie,” Jon tells the waitress with a smile. “Hi,” he answers the call, his smile only growing wider.

 

“Hi,” Sansa’s warm voice fills his ear and it’s a little soft so he knows she’s calling him from work. “I just am about to send you a link. Take a look at it when you get a chance and let me know what you think.”

 

“Any hint?” Jon asks.

 

“It’s a link for a house I’ve found.”

 

“Already?”

 

“I just started looking this morning and this one has an open house tomorrow I thought we could go through. And it’s in your parents’ neighborhood so that’s a plus already,” Sansa says.

 

Jon wonders how she can read his mind. He hadn’t told her that he possibly wanted to live in his parents’ neighborhood. He just can so easily imagine him, Sansa, Brandon and whatever children come along living in one of those houses in that neighborhood. And he knows his mom and Arthur would lose their minds with happiness if they were close by. Not that they live forever away now – just on a different side of Wintertown – and he and Sansa obviously can’t afford a house in the Stark neighborhood – no matter how good the Baratheon Brothers are going to raise his pay.

 

And Sansa even considering a house in his parents’ neighborhood might not seem anything, but in his opinion, it’s pretty much everything.

 

“I’ll take a look and let you know,” Jon promises. “I’m still having lunch with the team so I’ll talk to you later.”

 

“Sounds good. How is it going?” Sansa asks.

 

The waitress has just arrived with their peanut butter pie and Tormund’s eyes widen to a comical size that makes Jon let out a huff of laughter.

 

“It’s going good,” is all Jon says into the phone. He’ll tell her everything tonight. “I love you,” he then says.

 

“I love you, too,” Sansa says and he can hear her smile, which only makes him smile.

 

When he ends the call, he’s still smiling and Sansa’s text comes through with a ding. As Edd takes it upon himself to cut the pie into four massive – but even – pieces, Jon clicks on the link to look at the house.

 

Oh, he knows this house. It’s actually on the same street as his mom and Arthur. There’s a beautiful, massive weir wood tree in the front yard and another in the back yard. The house itself is dark blue with a white front door and a bay window on both the first and second floors. Two floors. Jon’s already in love and he only falls deeper as he begins looking through the pictures. This house already has a sunroom built onto the back from off of the kitchen – bigger than the one he built for Sansa and it would offer so much more room for her to work or for a playroom for their children – and he noted that the laundry room is on the first floor, too. That is one of Sansa’s dreams – a laundry room on the first floor. Right now, she has a small stacked washer and dryer in the hall closet and he wants to give his wife the laundry room she wants.

 

 _Yes_ , Jon texts back to her.

 

 _Xoxo_ , Sansa texts back.

 

Jon smiles down to his phone and he hears Tormund groan.

 

“What?” Jon asks without lifting his head, still looking down to his phone as he sees the three dots appear and he waits for Sansa’s next text.

 

“It’s sweet,” Val says in his defense. “They’re newlyweds.”

 

Jon smiles just at that word.

 

“I’m going to have a talk with Sansa when I go out with her and Margaery,” Tormund says before shoveling another forkful of pie into his mouth.

 

That gets Jon to lift his head. “You’re going out with Sansa and Margaery?” He asks with a furrowed brow because Sansa had said she was going out with Margaery, but she hadn’t mentioned Tormund. Or had she? She might have this morning. Jon admits that he had been a bit distracted, worrying about this lunch.  

 

“Margaery invited me,” Tormund nods. “She wants to make Robb jealous.”

 

Jon’s brow remains furrowed. “Why does she want to make Robb jealous?”

 

“I guess they were out to dinner and Robb didn’t immediately agree with Margaery when Margaery said their waitress was being too friendly,” Tormund explains to them.

 

Edd rolls his eyes and concentrates on eating his pie. Jon wants to roll his eyes, too, but he manages not to before looking back down to his phone. He likes Margaery and he knows Robb really likes her – maybe loves her – and they’ve been dating for a few months now. Margaery is also Sansa’s closest friend and Jon loves when the two have a girl’s night out because Sansa always come home on those nights, still laughing.

 

But – and Jon will never _ever_ say this to anyone – Margaery can be _slightly_ dramatic sometimes. It’s absolutely none of his business though and Robb seems pretty happy with her.

 

“So, to make Robb jealous, Margaery’s taking you out?” Val asks with a raised eyebrow.

 

Tormund frowns at her and points his fork at her. “I know what you’re getting at, Val, and I don’t necessarily appreciate it. I am more than capable of making guys jealous. I could probably start my own side business. Ladies, hire me and together, we’ll make your fellow go mad.” His eyes start gleaming at the possibility, looking far off into the distance. “Oh, it could be something this world has never seen before and I would make a fortune.”

 

Jon, Edd and Val just blink at him.

 

Edd then looks to Jon, smirking a little. “Are you sure you want to bring him with us to Baratheon Projects?”

 

…

 

Jon smiles at Brandon as Jon wipes the towel all over his body.

 

“There we are,” Jon says, rubbing it over his hair once more. “Let’s get a diaper on you and then you want to pick out your pajamas?”

 

“Yep!” Brandon turns and opens the cabinet beneath the sink where his pull-up diapers are that he wears at night and with just a little help from Jon, he pulls one on. Jon then smiles, turning to watch the boy run from the bathroom into his bedroom.

 

Jon stands up and with the bathtub now drained of water, he gathers Brandon’s pirate bath toys and puts them in the net that Sansa has hanging where they are kept. He then hangs the towel up to dry and checks quickly to make sure that all remaining water puddles are wiped up before turning off the light and following Brandon’s path into his bedroom.

 

He stands in the doorway for a moment, watching Brandon as he pulls open the bottom drawer of his small dresser, sifting through his pajama sets that are folded there.

 

“Do you want me to help?” Jon offers.

 

“No, daddy!” Brandon exclaims, holding a hand up as if to stop him. “I do it!”

 

“Alright,” Jon smiles. “You do it.”

 

He goes to sit on Brandon’s toddler bed, watching him and smiling. He loves nights like this and he’ll never get tired of them. He’s already imagining what it will be like when there’s one or two more children added to it. Brandon, George and Eleanor. Or Brandon, Eleanor and George. And that’s if he and Sansa have a son and a daughter. If they have two sons or two daughters, they’re going to need more Beatles names.

 

“Daddy!” Brandon calls his name and Jon shakes out of his thoughts, seeing that he has made his decision.

 

Arthur has given Brandon a child’s-sized tee-shirt dark blue tee-shirt with WPD – Wintertown Police Department – and Brandon has tugged that on along with a pair of pajama pants – _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ , of course. Brandon is grinning and Jon grins as well.

 

“Good job,” Jon commends him, standing up. “You ready for bed?”

 

“Yep!”

 

Jon pulls the comforter back and Brandon takes a running jump into the bed. He settles down and hugs his wolf, Moe, in his arms and Jon pulls the comforter back over him, making sure he’s good and covered.

 

“What would you like tonight?” Jon asks, going to the small CD player on the dresser.

 

Brandon thinks it over for a moment, Jon smiling because Brandon takes this question very seriously. Jon can only hope that it won’t be _Maxwell’s Silver Hammer_.

 

“ _What You’re Doing_ ,” Brandon finally makes his decision.

 

Jon finds the appropriate CD from the stack and slips the disc into the player, then finding the appropriate track. Brandon smiles when he hears the familiar opening chords and after making sure the volume is soft, Jon goes back to the bed. He sits down on the edge of the bed and runs a hand over Brandon’s head.

 

“You good?” He asks.

 

Brandon nods, his eyes already growing heavy. “I’m good.”

 

“I love you very much, Brandon,” Jon then tells him.

 

“I love you, too, daddy,” Brandon replies and as always, Jon’s heart swells at the words.

 

Jon leans down and kisses Brandon’s head, the boy already drifting off, and Jon stands up. He turns off the overhead light and makes sure his hippo nightlight is on. And then, to the soft music of The Beatles, Jon leaves Brandon asleep, closing the door just a little bit – not all the way – and Jon heads into the kitchen. Lady is eating a late supper and Ghost is outside in the backyard. For dinner, he and Brandon had eaten macaroni and cheese and Jon’s not complaining. He loves macaroni and cheese, but he’s starving again.

 

Going into the refrigerator, he gathers everything he needs and then taking two slices of bread, he begins constructing himself a sandwich with the works – turkey, cheese, lettuce, mayonnaise. He grabs the bag of sour cream and onion chips and puts everything onto a plate. After putting everything back in the fridge, he then grabs a can of Coke, lets Ghost back inside – so he won’t have to get up to do it later – and then, carrying his late dinner, he sinks contently down onto the sofa.

 

Ghost begs politely at his feet, but Lady seems to not be interested – and seems to know Jon is not about to part with his food – and she goes to sleep in Brandon’s bedroom.

 

Jon has a secret; a secret he is prepared to take to the grave with him. Sansa is the only one who knows, but she is his wife and is now bound by law to keep this secret of his.

 

Turning on the television, lowering the volume, Jon then goes into their Hulu account.

 

“Just between you and me, right, Ghost?” Jon asks.

 

Ghost cocks his head to the side.

 

“Good boy,” Jon smiles and for that, he tosses a crisp out for him, Ghost catching it in his mouth. Jon clicks on the next episode and settles back comfortably as _Westeros’s Next Top Model_ begins. “I still can’t believe they got rid of Cassella last week. Her photoshoot wasn’t _that_ bad. As long as they keep Sybelle.”

 

He gets through a half-hour of the episode and finishes his sandwich when he hears keys in the front door.

 

Sansa steps into the house and smiles the instant she sees Jon on the couch. “Hi,” she greets him softly, her cheeks pink and a smile still on her lips. She almost lets out a laugh when she sees what he’s watching.

 

“Hey,” Jon smiles back and sits up, pausing the episode. “Have fun?”

 

“So much fun,” Sansa nods as she hangs her jacket up in the front closet and toes out of her shoes. It is a bit windy that night and more than a few hairs have escaped her braid. She begins taking it out all together and follows Jon into the kitchen as he goes to get himself more crisps. “How’s Brandon?” She asks.

 

“Sound asleep,” Jon answers and then setting his plate down, he turns towards her and Sansa gasps in surprise as Jon wraps her in his arms, drawing her body against his. He presses his lips to hers and she moans softly, her lips parting and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth.

 

“Mmmmm,” Sansa moans pleasurably, her arms tightening around his shoulders as Jon lifts one hand to the back of her head, his fingers tangling back in her now down hair. “I like this greeting,” she smiles against his lips once they part only far enough to breathe.

 

Jon smiles, too. “I love you,” he says to her quietly.

 

“I love you, too,” she says, the smile never fading from her lips. “If I ever get crazy like Margaery, you have an obligation to tell me, you know.”

 

The corners of Jon’s eyes crinkle at that. “Did she and Tormund succeed in making Robb jealous?”

 

“It was so ridiculous,” Sansa rolls her eyes with a smile and her hands begin slowly trailing down his chest. Jon wonders if she even realizes she’s doing it. “At dinner, they were taking all of these ridiculous pictures together and Margaery was texting them to Robb. Robb probably thinks she’s insane now. Why on earth would he ever be jealous of Tormund? Robb knows we’re all friends.”

 

Jon leans in and presses his lips to the corner of her jaw and he can feel a shiver go through her. Her fingers hook through the belt loops of his jeans and she presses herself tight against him.

 

“Tormund thinks he can make good money helping girls make their boyfriends jealous,” Jon murmurs.

 

“Hmmm,” Sansa says as if she’s thinking that over and Jon trails his lips down the side of her throat. “Thank goodness I have a husband who knows he doesn’t have to worry about silly things like that.”

 

Jon’s lips curve into a smile against her skin. Husband. He swears he’ll never get tired of that word. “When we go through that open house, I want you to envision me fucking you in every single room.”

 

Sansa shivers again and she tilts her head more to the side to encourage him to kiss her there more. “I was already doing that when I looked through the pictures,” she confesses in a breathless moan.

 

Jon turns her around at that and pins her against the counter, kissing her deeply and swallowing her moan. “You are absolutely perfect for me, Sansa Snow,” he tells her, practically speaking into her mouth.

 

Sansa’s fingers begin fiddling with the zipper of his jean – not pulling it down; not yet. “And don’t you ever forget it, Jon Snow.”

 

“Never,” Jon says just before swallowing her mouth with his again.

 

He’s not sure how long he kisses her against the kitchen counter, but as soon as Sansa’s fingers unbutton his jeans, he pulls his head back and his lungs are burning and they are both panting heavily.

 

“You said Brandon was asleep?” Sansa asks, staring into his eyes.

 

“ _Sound_ asleep,” Jon assures her. “You can check on him later.”

 

“Jon!” Sansa gasps quietly as Jon hefts her up and sets her down onto the counter. “Right here?” Her eyes widen as Jon whips his tee-shirt off before parting her knees just enough for him to step between them and sliding a hand onto her cheek, he gives her a deep kiss.

 

“Right here,” he confirms. “Now, Sansa Snow, lift your hips.”

 

Sansa hesitates, looking over Jon’s shoulder as if expecting to see Brandon standing right there, and she then looks back to Jon. “You’re a terrible influence on me,” she says, shaking her head even as she lifts herself enough for Jon to swiftly undo her jeans and begin to tug them down her legs along with her underwear.

 

“The worst,” he gives her a wink and Sansa lets out a breathless laugh as she watches him sink down to his knees in front of her.

 

“This is very unsanitary,” she whispers to him and Jon chuckles, his lips already moving up her inner thigh.

 

“Wait until you see what else I’m going to do to you in this kitchen.”

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fifteen - touring an open house/dinner with Lyanna and Arthur  
> Sixteen - spending time with Sam, Gilly and Little Sam  
> Seventeen - Jon and Arthur have a talk  
> Eighteen - the _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ Live! show
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and for loving this world as much as I love writing it.


	16. Fifteen

…

 

**Fifteen.**

 

“Thank you for doing this, mom,” Jon says, not for the first time, as he puts on his jacket.

 

 “Thank me one more time, Jon,” Lyanna says, only half-joking.

 

Jon gives her a little smile and then heads into the living room, where Sansa is putting on her own jacket and explaining to Brandon what is happening.

 

“We won’t be gone long, sweetling. We’re just going to be right down the street, looking at a house,” Sansa is telling him as Brandon sits on the floor, paused in playing with the toys that used to be Jon’s and are now his, always kept in the living room for him now at Grandpa Arthur’s and Grandma Lyanna’s house.

 

Brandon frowns at her as Sansa crouches down in front of him.

 

“I come?” He asks.

 

“Not this time,” Sansa smiles at him warmly and shakes her head. “Daddy and me are going to take a look while you stay here with Grandpa and Grandma, but if daddy and me like the house and want to see it again, we’ll take you with us.”

 

Brandon is quiet, thinking that over in his mind, before he gives a firm nod. “Okay,” he says simply.

 

Sansa smiles and leans over, kissing him on the forehead. “You’ll be good?” She then asks him.

 

“I’ll be good,” Brandon promises.

 

“I love you, Brandon,” she says as she says countless times a day and Sansa then stands up, giving Brandon one more smile, before turning towards Jon. “Ready?”

 

“Definitely.” Jon’s not even trying to hide his excitement for this and Sansa smiles because she knows it.

 

“Thank you so much for watching Brandon, Lyanna,” Sansa then says to her mother-in-law.

 

“I’m ignoring you!” Lyanna calls out in a sing-song voice as she heads back into the kitchen. “Brandon, come get your cheese puffs!” She then says and she hardly gets the words out before Brandon has gotten himself to his feet and have gone running into the kitchen, effectively forgetting all about his parents.

 

Jon knows that Sansa had been nervous about telling his parents that they are now married, having eloped down to King’s Landing. Jon is their only child and Lyanna would want to see her only child get married – especially get married to the absolute love of his life.

 

But when Jon and Sansa had come over, early in the afternoon so they could both tell Lyanna and Arthur about their marriage and to also visit the open house in the neighborhood, Lyanna had – surprisingly – much the same reaction as Catelyn had had when she found out; meaning she hadn’t been surprised in the least and had almost acted as if she had very much expected it.

 

Jon wonders if the two moms had talked about it when the families had gotten together for dinner when he and Sansa were down in King’s Landing.

 

“As long as you _swear_ that you’re getting married again,” Lyanna had said after hugs and tears had been exchanged by them all.

 

“We are,” Jon easily promises her. “And actually, we’ve been talking things over and Arthur mentioned to me that you two wouldn’t mind paying for the band-”

 

“Yes, yes,” Lyanna nods her head rapidly. “Any band you two want.”

 

“I’ve heard that there’s actually quite a good Beatles cover band that plays in Last Hearth,” Arthur offers.

 

“If it’s Strawberry Fields, Sansa’s been stalking them online for a couple of months now,” Jon grins.

 

“I wouldn’t call it stalking,” Sansa gives her a husband a frown that isn’t true. “It’s called me being a fan.”

 

Outside, Jon grasps Sansa’s hand in his as they step down the porch steps and head towards the sidewalk. He looks around the street and finds himself smiling. Yes, he can easily see himself living here; their family settling here and starting their life together as a family, officially. He looks to Sansa and she is looking around with a faint smile on her face, clearly thinking and imagining the same thing.

 

He gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “I know a person shouldn’t buy the first house they walk through, but I was thinking that if we _do_ love it, we might want to seriously consider putting down an offer right away.”

 

Sansa looks to him and squeezes his hand back. “I agree. I’ve been researching the schools. The elementary school is less than three blocks away and quite good. There’s a park right across the street. Your parents would be just a few houses down… and from the pictures I’ve seen online, I love this house already.”

 

Jon pulls his hand from Sansa’s only so he can wrap his arm around her shoulders. He kisses her temple. “Me, too,” he says as if it’s some big secret he’s been keeping from her and Sansa smiles at him, her cheeks pink from the slightly brisk wind blowing.

 

“I was looking up some other things online and, um,” she pauses to take a deep breath. “There’s a dialysis center less than two miles away, as well.”

 

Jon stops walking, causing Sansa to stop walking as well. “You looked that up?” He asks and he feels a tightness in his chest as if it hurts to breathe, but it doesn’t. Nothing hurts anymore.

 

“Well, yes,” Sansa says, jutting her chin out slightly as if she’s prepared for a fight. “A good dialysis center for you is as important to this family as a good elementary school for our children and-”

 

Jon swiftly dips his head in and presses his lips to hers, preventing another single word from leaving her mouth. Sansa seems to immediately melt into it, her body relaxing against his and her arms going around his shoulders. Jon reminds himself that they are standing on the sidewalk in his parents’ neighborhood and being indecent isn’t _exactly_ how he wants himself and his wife to be introduced to the neighbors so, with some great effort, Jon manages to pull his lips back from Sansa’s.

 

“I love you so much, Sansa Snow,” Jon tells her, looking into her eyes, seeing the warmth and love looking back at him. “And I’m still trying to figure out how I possibly deserve you.”

 

He isn’t sure what he expects her reaction to be, but it isn’t a frown – which is exactly what Sansa gives him. She frowns and pulls her arms away as she takes a step back.

 

“What?” Jon wonders what’s wrong with what he’s said.

 

“I hate when you say that,” Sansa shakes her head.

 

“What?” He asks again.

 

“We’ve both made mistakes, Jon. So what have I done to deserve you?” Sansa questions him back.

 

Jon gives a frown to match her own. “What are you talking about?”

 

Sansa sighs heavily. “You wonder what you’ve done to deserve me. Well, I’m asking you the same thing. What have _I_ done to deserve _you_?”

 

“It’s not the same thing, Sansa,” Jon shakes his head.

 

“I think it is,” she shrugs.

 

Jon just keeps frowning. It’s nowhere near the same thing and how can Sansa possibly think that it is? He’s the one who was too scared years ago and he was the one who let her walk away. He was the one who was too much of a coward to try and win her back and instead, decided he’d rather get blackout drunk. He was the one who – inadvertently – pushed her towards Ramsay.

 

No, it’s not the same thing whatsoever and Jon will be spending his entire life trying to make things right; trying to make things the way they should have always been.

 

He doesn’t say any of that though. He will. Just not here and not now.

 

Instead, he exhales a deep breath and takes her hand into his again. “Do you want to go look at the house?”

 

Sansa looks at him and exhales her own breath. “Of course I do.”

 

They begin walking down the sidewalk once more. The road has the slightest curve and the house is sitting right on the curve. The weir wood tree’s leaves are red and on fire against the slightly dismal afternoon sky. The house is a beautiful dark blue with trims in white.

 

Sansa squeezes his hand. “It’s perfect, Jon,” she says softly not taking her eyes off of the house.

 

Jon wants to agree with her, but he can’t find his voice, also staring at the house as they get closer. That’s exactly what it is. It’s perfect. And already, he can see them living here and having their family’s life here. He can see their cars in the drive-way – Sansa’s car and his pick-up truck – and he can see kids and Ghost and Lady jumping out of either vehicle, laughing and happy and barking, and racing inside.

 

The vision is so clear, he wants to run with Sansa straight inside and lay down an offer right then and there without even looking at the rest of the house.

 

They walk up the driveway and the two steps up onto the front porch. Jon opens the glass storm door for Sansa, but before she steps into the house, she turns around, looking back up the curve of the street.

 

“Look, Jon,” she points back from where they had just walked and Jon turns his head, smiling when he sees Sansa pointing at his parents’ house up the street, visible from the front porch.

 

“Sure you want to live _that_ close to them?” Jon asks with a smile.

 

Sansa smiles, too, and she bounces a bit towards him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Jon breaks into a grin and with a hand on the small of her back, he follows her into the house.

 

“Oh, Jon,” Sansa whispers as they get their first look around.

 

The rooms are empty. Whoever has lived here has already moved out and either the previous owners or the real estate agency had hired someone to do work on it since then. The windows – new – allow the afternoon light to pour into the rooms. The floors have all been laid with new wood and the walls have been painted a fresh, clean white. A blank slate.

 

Sansa takes Jon and pulls him into the living room that is to the left of the front door and hall. Rather than looking around the room though, Jon looks at Sansa. She is still holding his hand so when she walks to the front bay window, Jon comes with her.

 

“We could put our Christmas tree right here,” she says, looking at him with a smile. “And the television against this wall or…” she spins back towards him. “Do you think we should have a proper front sitting room and the television can be in the den?”

 

Jon smiles and shrugs. “Whatever you want, Sansa.”

 

“Whatever _we_ want, Jon,” Sansa corrects him and steps to him, slipping her arms around his waist. Jon just keeps on smiling and puts his own arms around her.

 

“Whatever we want,” Jon echoes in a whisper and Sansa’s eyes are already fluttering shut as Jon moves his head towards her and his lips softly meet hers.

 

“I thought I heard someone walk in!”

 

Jon and Sansa’s lips part and both turn their heads to see a woman walk into the living room.

 

“Hello, I’m Millicent,” a woman in, what looks to be, her mid-forties with curly blonde hair that surrounds her face and reminds Jon of a lion’s mane. “I’m the realtor.”

 

“Hello,” Sansa smiles in return at the woman and shakes Millicent’s hand and then Jon shakes it, nodding his head towards her politely. “I’m Sansa and this is my husband, Jon.”

 

“Newlyweds,” Millicent guesses correctly and both Jon and Sansa look a little surprised because she then laughs. “There’s a look. So, looking for your first home? Plan on having any children? This is the perfect home for children. Tons of nooks and crannies hidden around.”

 

Jon speaks up. “We have one already, but we’re planning on more. The backyard is fenced in, correct?”

 

“Oh, yes,” Millicent nods. “And there’s plenty of room out there. The basement is also finished so there’s plenty of spaces you can tell them to go to get out of your hair.”

 

Sansa and Jon both smile at that.

 

“Would you mind showing us around?” Sansa asks.

 

“Of course not! So, this, as you can guess, is the living room…”

 

The living room blends into the dining room which then leads into the kitchen. New white cabinets and gray marble counters with matching new, gray-steel appliances. It’s bright and clean and much bigger than their current kitchen. Jon is checking on the plumbing beneath the sink when he hears Sansa gasp. He instantly stands up and looks to see what has gotten her attention.

 

“Oh, Jon, look,” she says, reaching for his hand.

 

The sunroom.

 

Like in their current house, this sunroom is built off of the kitchen, the sliding door leading into it.

 

Sansa, holding onto Jon’s hand still, leads them both out to it. The three walls have large picture windows and there is a door that leads into the backyard. Jon’s never liked to toot his own horn, but the sunroom he built for Sansa, he thinks it’s one of the best things he’s ever built – taking such care with each nail he pounded into place as the structure slowly took shape. And he knows that Sansa loves her sunroom. It’s her favorite room in the house and has already spent countless hours out there, sewing and sketching.

 

“Imagine all of the work you could get done out here,” Jon murmurs quietly as they look around the much-larger sunroom.

 

“The previous owners were hoping this would be a main selling point for any interested buyers,” Millicent speaks up from the doorway, allowing Jon and Sansa to look around without her right on their heels.

 

“Oh, it definitely is. It’s so beautiful,” Sansa comments as she stands at one of the windows, looking out over the backyard and the second weir wood tree planted on the property.

 

Jon comes to stand next to her and looking at the tree, he imagines their children climbing all over it. He then looks to Sansa and she’s looking out at the tree as well and he wonders if she’s imagining the same exact thing. He sees the tears starting to brim in her eyes and his hand slips to the back of her neck.

 

“Are you alright?” He asks her in a soft voice so Millicent won’t be able to overhear.

 

Sansa nods and sniffles and turns towards him. “This feels like home,” she whispers.

 

Jon pulls her in close and brings his lips to rest on her forehead. Her arms slip around his waist and Jon closes his eyes, keeping his lips to her skin.

 

Home.

 

Gods, that’s another of his new favorite words. Yes, since moving in with Sansa and Brandon into their little house, that has been his home. But – and he’s never told this to Sansa – but he’s very aware that that’s her house. His things are there, Sansa and Brandon are there, and when he’s there, he feels like he’s home. But if and when they move into another house, that will be _their_ house; something they can make a home together, starting somewhere new, at the same time, together.

 

“Ready to see the rest?” He asks and Sansa nods.

 

He turns to look at Millicent, but he sees that she has left the sunroom, giving them some privacy.

 

“Come on. Let’s go see the bedroom I’m going to be making love to you in for the rest of our lives,” he says, taking his hand in hers, twining their fingers together, and Sansa gives him a smile, blushing.

 

“You’re already thinking it as _our_ bedroom?” Sansa asks.

 

“Yes, why? Are we sleeping in separate rooms and you haven’t told me yet?” Jon wonders. “I don’t know if you’ve realized this or not, but I _have_ been trying to get you pregnant.”

 

Sansa laughs at that and Jon smiles just from the sound. “I just meant, yes, this already feels like home, but what if we hate the upstairs and decide it’s not for us? Or what if the down payment is just too much? I don’t want to be house poor, Jon.”

 

“Neither do I, Sansa,” Jon tells her with a squeeze of her hand and gentle smile. “But I doubt we’ll hate the upstairs. We didn’t hate what we saw online so I don’t see why we would hate it in person. And as for the down payment, we’ll go to the bank. We’ll look at our savings and see what would be the best amount for us to put down. But… there _is_ the extra money from the Baratheon Projects deal that I’ll be getting…”

 

He doesn’t know how much more money he’ll be getting – that will be all included in the contract that the brothers are drawing up for him – but Jon is going to assume that the money increase will be far more than he has right now.

 

“Yes, there is it that,” Sansa agrees. “I wasn’t sure if you would want to spend that on something like this though and I didn’t want to assume-”

 

“Something like this?” Jon frowns. “You mean, a home for our family? What else would I possibly want to spend it on if not for something for our family?”

 

 “I just meant that it’s _your_ money, Jon. You’ve earned it.”

 

Jon stares at her and he wills himself to not get angry. He knows Sansa isn’t saying these things to start a fight between them and the last thing Jon _ever_ wants to do with Sansa is fight. But sometimes, he can’t help it. Sometimes, she says something and it just makes him so angry – whether he wants to be or not.

 

He forces himself to take a deep breath. “Sansa, we’re married now. You didn’t forget that, did you?”

 

Sansa gives him a look as if she doesn’t understand what he’s asking. “Of course I haven’t forgotten.”

 

“Well, my money is _our_ money now and if I find myself coming into some extra money, guess what I’m going to spend it on? _Us_.”

 

Sansa looks at him for a moment and her lips part as if she’s going to speak, but then seems to decide against it. She’s quiet, looking at him. “I know, Jon,” she says quietly. “I… I’m just still getting used to all of this.”

 

“All of what?”

 

He then remembers Arya’s words from their lunch earlier last month.

 

_“I don’t know if you know this, Jon, but Sansa has plenty of issues she’s still working through and one of them is getting used to having a good man in her life who wants to actually be there.”_

He’s asked a question, but now, he doesn’t want her to answer. He doesn’t need her to.

 

Instead, Jon steps forward, his hands find her cheeks and his lips find hers.

 

“Marry me?” He asks once their lips part.

 

Sansa’s body relaxes against his – he hadn’t even realized it was tense – and she bursts into a soft smile.

 

“Always,” she confirms and Jon grins now, his eyes crinkling, before kissing her again.

 

“Now,” he takes a step back and grasps both of her hands. “Want to check the upstairs?”

 

This time, Sansa nods quickly. “Definitely.”

 

They leave the sunroom to find Millicent in the kitchen, making a couple of calls. When she sees them, she quickly ends the conversation and beams at them, asking if they’re ready to continue.

 

They follow her up the stairs to the second floor. _Second floor_. Jon can’t get over how much more space this house will be for all of them. He’s already wondering how soon they can put an offer in with Millicent. Or should they wait and show their parents the house first before making a decision?

 

No, Jon nixes that idea as he follows Millicent and Sansa into the master bedroom off the top of the stairs.

 

He and Sansa are both adults. They’re married and this is a home for their family. It is completely their decision as to whether they buy this house or not. He loves all of their parents, but it’s time that he and Sansa start living the life they want without so many people involved. And that includes choosing and buying a house.

 

Maybe, though, they’ll bring Brandon back to see what he thinks before the final decision.

 

After all, he is Brandon Stark – soon to be Brandon Snow – and this will be his house, too. Jon wants to make sure that all of them will be happy here. Nothing matters to him more than making sure his family is happy.

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you!


	17. Sixteen

…

 

**Sixteen.**

“You look beautiful.”

 

Sansa has been looking at her reflection in the mirror and at his words, she turns to look at him. “I do?” She asks as if she just wants to make sure.

 

Jon smiles, stepping into the bedroom. He comes to her and winding his arms around her waist, pulling her against him, he drops his head down and kisses the side of her throat. “You’re so beautiful, Sansa,” he murmurs against her skin.

 

“I just want them to like me,” she confides to him in a quiet voice and Jon lifts her head to look at her.

 

“Are you kidding? They already _adore_ you.”

 

He’s not even exaggerating. Every week at their AA meeting, the first thing Gilly asks him is how Sansa is. Sansa isn’t aware yet, but she has a friend for life in Gilly for what she had done that night Jon had brought her to stay with them. Sansa had made her hot chocolate and oatmeal for breakfast the next morning and Jon might be Gilly’s sponsor, but he already knows he doesn’t compare to Sansa in Gilly’s eyes.

 

And Sam hasn’t even met Sansa yet, but he already loves her as well, knowing how Sansa helped his wife.

 

“I hope they do,” Sansa says. “I like the idea of us having another couple as friends.”

 

“We have Margaery and Robb,” Jon reminds her and then grins when she rolls her eyes.

 

“I love those two, separately and together, but, I honestly don’t know how they don’t get exhausted,” Sansa says with a shake of her head and Jon smiles. “We won’t ever be like that, will we?” She then wonders.

 

“Trying to always up one another and make one another jealous? I get tired just talking about it,” Jon admits and it’s the right answer to give because Sansa smiles widely at him before leaning in, giving him a kiss.

 

“Mama!” Brandon calls out and after checking her reflection one more time, Sansa leaves their bedroom to go into Brandon’s to see what help he needs.

 

As always, the toddler has insisted that he dress himself for the evening and whatever he has donned himself in, it makes Sansa begin to laugh as soon as she steps into the room. Jon pokes his head into the room to see as well what Brandon has decided to dress himself in and when he sees, he cracks into a grin.

 

He is wearing his long _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ pajamas, but has put his red cardigan on as well and his Velcro sneakers. “I dressed myself!” He proudly announces to them both.

 

“Oh, sweetling,” Sansa smiles, a bubble of laughter still in her throat. “You look very handsome,” she says as she kneels on the floor in front of him. Brandon beams. “How about…” she begins to say and Brandon’s smile begins to slip. “We keep everything on, but instead of the bottoms, we put jeans on instead?”

 

Brandon looks down to his pajama pants, now frowning. “But I can wear this?” He asks, flattening his hands on his pajama shirt.

 

“Definitely,” Sansa nods and then smiles. “I think it really completes the ensemble.”

 

Brandon has no idea what that means, but he’s back to beaming.

 

Jon smiles as Sansa and Brandon begin taking off his shoes. “I’m going to let the dogs out,” he tells them and Sansa gives him a smile over her shoulder as he leaves the doorway.

 

As Jon lets Ghost and Lady out in the backyard, his phone on the counter dings and he goes to collect it. He opens the newly received email and reads it through. It’s from the realtor, Millicent. Jon reads it again – and then a third time. The smile slowly creeps across his face and his stomach begins to rise as if he’s seconds from going over the first massive drop of a rollercoaster.

 

“Sansa!” He calls out. “Sansa!”

 

“What?” Sansa hurries into the kitchen, slightly panicked. “What is it?”

 

Jon thrusts out his phone for her to take and Sansa does, her eyes taking a moment to focus on what he wants her to read. And when she does register as to what her eyes are seeing, tears begin to form and she looks at Jon again, her hand slowly coming to her fallen-open mouth.

 

“We got the house?” She asks in a whisper.

 

Jon’s grin is splitting his face now and he nods, feeling his own tears coming. “We got the house,” he confirms and then lets out a laugh, hardly able to believe it.

 

This is his life. This is really his life and he has absolutely everything he’s ever allowed himself to dream of having. Not just a wife, but _Sansa_ as his wife and he has Brandon and now, they’re going to be moving into their dream house together. He wonders if he’ll finally reach the point where he actually believes it.

 

“We got the house,” Sansa echoes and then begins laughing and crying at the same time and Jon laughs again before grabbing Sansa and hauling her into his arms. He hoists her up and Sansa wraps her legs around his hips and he squeezes his arms around her. “We got the house,” she whispers then and Jon closes his eyes, breathing her in, never wanting to put her back down again.

 

“I’m ready!” Brandon exclaims, bouncing into the kitchen.

 

Jon and Sansa both turn their heads to see that he is, in fact, ready. Still wearing his pajama top and red cardigan, he’s now wearing jeans with his Velcro shoes back on.

 

“Looking good, Little Stark,” Jon grins at him.

 

“Very handsome,” Sansa agrees and with a quick kiss to her lips, Jon gently sets her down to her feet again.

 

“Daddy?” Brandon asks as Sansa goes to her own phone on the counter, making sure it’s fully charged before they leave for the evening.

 

“What’s up?” Jon smiles down at him.

 

“You’re daddy and you’re Snow. I’m Snow, too,” Brandon says in his limited three-year-old vocabulary.

 

But Jon understands him perfectly and for a moment, he can do nothing, but stare down at Brandon as Brandon looks up at him, frowning a little like he does when he doesn’t understand something. He can see Sansa, standing perfectly still at the counter, obviously having no idea how what to do or what to say.

 

Jon’s eyes return to Brandon and he kneels down in front of him. “You would like that? To be a Snow?”

 

Brandon nods his head rapidly. “I’m a Snow!” He exclaims, bouncing up onto his toes with excitement.

 

“You’re the best Snow of all,” Jon tells him.

 

Brandon giggles and steps forward, wrapping his arms around Jon’s neck in a hug, and Jon closes his eyes, hugging the boy and hefting him as Jon rises to his feet. He opens his eyes to look at Sansa and he’s not surprised to see that she’s watching with a smile and tears in her eyes. Jon shifts Brandon into one arm and then with his other, he comes over and wraps it around Sansa, hugging them both – his family – tight.

 

…

 

“We have to celebrate!” Sam exclaims once Jon and Sansa have told him and Gilly about the house and he goes to collect the bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling apple cider he has chilled for dinner.

 

They all hear Brandon and Little Sam laughing from the living room. For just meeting each other the first time that evening, the two little boys are already acting as if they’re the very best friends. Little Sam has the same _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ playset that Brandon has and they are in the midst of playing and chattering together.

 

Sam pours four glasses of the cider and brings them back for everyone.

 

“So how close are you parents then?” Gilly asks Jon.

 

“Very close. Five houses down. It’ll probably be like a sitcom, with mom and Arthur popping in through our door all of the time.”

 

“That sounds wonderful,” Sansa smiles at him, leaning into his side, and Jon smiles, too, putting his arm around her and kissing her on the temple.

 

“I think we’re in the same school district now,” Gilly says and then gasps. “Little Sam and Brandon might be attending the same elementary school in the next couple of years.”

 

Both sets of parents smile at that.

 

“To new friends and new houses,” Sam toasts and they all clink their glasses together with smiles.

 

_Chloe, Zoe, Mick and Vic!_

_They’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

 

Both boys begin shouting from the living room and Gilly gives a mock shiver.

 

“I’m not looking forward to the live show,” she voices what they’re all thinking.

 

“It’ll be fun,” Sam gives a smile and Jon smirks a little before taking another sip of his cider. Well, _almost_ all of them had been thinking what Gilly has said.

 

“He keeps repeating that,” Gilly tells Sansa and Jon. “I think he’s trying to convince himself of it.”

 

Sam looks at his wife with slightly wide eyes. “It _will_ be fun! How can it not be? Four dancing hippos and all of the other _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ characters on a stage, performing a show? I can’t wait!”

 

“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not,” Jon comments.

 

“I’m not!” Sam insists. “I’m really looking forward to it.”

 

“Yeah, still can’t tell,” Jon shakes his head and they all laugh.

 

The oven timer in the kitchen beeps then and Gilly finishes swallowing her mouthful of cider. “I’ll be right back,” she smiles at them.

 

“Oh, please let me help, Gilly,” Sansa says.

 

“You’re the guest, Sansa,” Gilly reminds her, but she doesn’t stop her as Sansa follows her into the kitchen.

 

Pouring himself another glass from the cider bottle on the table, and then topping Jon’s glass off, Sam and Jon leave the dining room to go into the living room.

 

Jon settles himself into one of the armchairs and leans forward a little, sipping from his glass and watching with a small smile as Brandon chatters to both himself and Little Sam as he plays with the elaborate playset. For Brandon’s third birthday, Sansa’s siblings had gotten Brandon the same _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ playset and it’s definitely one of his favorite toys, the thing always set up in the living room, always ready to be played. Jon has stepped on his fair share of plastic figurines scattered across the floor more than once.

 

He watches both Brandon and Little Sam play and he smiles, imagining Brandon playing in his new – larger – bedroom and having a playroom set up in the finished basement.

 

“Sansa’s really wonderful, Jon,” Sam says and Jon smiles, looking to his friend.

 

“She is,” Jon agrees. “Thank you for inviting us over for dinner tonight. It really means a lot to us both.”

 

“Of course,” Sam smiles easily. “You are very important to Gilly and have helped her so much and with what happened recently and how Sansa helped her…” he trails off, not wanting to finish that.

 

He doesn’t have to though. Jon knows. He doesn’t know how it feels, but he can just imagine and he has seen plenty of hurt on the faces of those he loves. He still remembers those faces when he was too drunk to even hold himself up or when he nearly fell off the wagon more than once. The love and pain and Jon knows exactly how Gilly felt when she could bare to face her husband and wanted to go home with Jon instead that night she called him in tears from the liquor store.

 

Being an alcoholic is anything, but easy and the same can be said for those who love an alcoholic.

 

“It means the world to us that you’ve come tonight,” Sam says with a small smile towards Jon; a smile that Jon has no problem in returning.

 

“Daddy!” Brandon gets to his feet then and comes hurrying over, holding the banana bus. “The wheel!”

 

Jon sets his glass down on the coffee table and takes the plastic vehicle from Brandon’s hands. “Ah,” he says when he sees the wheel is a bit wobbly. “That’s an easy fix,” he says and Brandon – and then Little Sam getting up and coming over as well – watches as Jon takes his key ring from his pocket where he has a small travel screwdriver hanging. Within three turns of the tiny screw, the wheel is back on good and tight. “There we are. Good as new,” Jon smiles at both boys and Brandon and Little Sam smile in return.

 

“What do you say, Sam?” Sam prompts his son.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Snow!” The four-year-old exclaims loudly as if Jon isn’t sitting right in front of him.

 

Jon just keeps smiling though. “You are very welcome.”

 

All four turn their heads when Sansa comes into the living room. “Dinner’s just about ready. Boys, come and let’s wash your hands.”

 

She turns again and both Brandon and Little Sam run off after her for the kitchen. Jon smiles and sets the plastic banana bus onto the coffee table, picking up his glass once more.

 

“Are you and Sansa going to have more?” Sam asks.

 

“Believe me. I’ve been working very hard at that,” Jon says and Sam chuckles even as his ears turn pink. “Are you and Gilly wanting anymore?”

 

Sam takes a sip of his cider. “I would like another, but Gilly… well, she’s worried enough about Little Sam and addiction being hereditary. She’s already watching him for any early signs. She doesn’t seem like she’s eager to have another child and perhaps have them inherit her addictions.” The man does his best to smile and shrug as if it doesn’t bother him though his sad eyes tell another story.

 

Jon is quiet, unsure of what his response to that should be, his mind chewing on Sam’s words. Can a parent pass addiction down to their child? He has never thought of that.

 

Perhaps he should have.

 

…

 

He has just gotten Brandon sat down at the table with his breakfast when the doorbell rings and both dogs tear off to the front door, barking their heads off. Brandon slips down from his chair to follow after them and Jon brings up the rear. He gently pushes Ghost to the side so he can take a peek through the door’s peephole and then grabbing Brandon around the waist, hoisting him up with one arm – making Brandon burst out into giggles – Jon holds both dogs back as best as he can as he tugs the door open and then unlocks the screen door, pushing it open and then stepping back so Arthur can step inside.

 

“Grampa!” Brandon exclaims.

 

“Hello, there, Brandon,” Arthur smiles at the boy warmly and ruffles a hand over his hair.

 

Jon sets Brandon down on his feet. “Go and finish your breakfast,” he tells him and Brandon bobs his head before running back to the kitchen, Lady trotting after him and once Ghost has properly sniffed Arthur, turns and goes back into the kitchen as well. “Is everything alright?” Jon asks as he locks the screen door once more and then closes the front door. “Sansa’s gone on her morning run, but she should be back soon.”

 

Arthur shakes his head. “Actually…” he glances around the living room and then towards the kitchen before looking back to Jon.

 

Jon’s not sure why, but his stomach begins to tighten as if he’s becoming nervous. There’s something in Arthur’s eyes; something he can’t decipher, but whatever it is, _that_ is what is making him nervous.

 

“Is there somewhere we can speak in private?” Arthur asks him.

 

The tightening in his stomach is almost painful now.

 

He swallows. “The sunroom,” he says. “Sansa has taken her wedding dress to her parents’ house to work on it there so it’s no longer off limits. Would you like something to drink? Sansa’s brewed coffee before she left.”

 

“A cup would be great,” Arthur nods.

 

In the kitchen, Brandon is happily spooning his oatmeal and blueberries into his mouth, Ghost is begging for any bits that might splat onto the floor and Lady is at her bowl, eating her own breakfast. Brandon smiles at both men as they enter the kitchen and he keeps eating. Jon pours both himself and Arthur cups of coffee.

 

“Brandon, Grandpa and I are going to be speaking in the sunroom. Can you be good and finish your breakfast?” Jon asks him.

 

“Yep!” Brandon readily and easily agrees.

 

Jon smiles faintly and kisses the boy on the head before following Arthur into the small sunroom, sliding the door shut behind them both. He stands so he can look both into the kitchen and see Brandon and at Arthur.

 

Arthur stands at one of the windows and he glances into the backyard while taking a sip of coffee.

 

“You’re scaring the shit out of me,” Jon cuts right to it.

 

Arthur’s eyes move back to him. “I don’t mean to, I’m sorry,” he says with a shake of his head. “I’m just… I’m working on the words in my head and how I want them to come out.”

 

“Just say it. Is something wrong with mom? Is something wrong with _you_?” Jon asks and he leans over, setting his cup down onto Sansa’s drawing table. He’s not sure why he’s poured himself a cup. He can’t imagine himself even taking a sip of it right now.

 

He keeps looking at Arthur and waiting.

 

Arthur takes another sip of coffee and then sets his cup down onto Sansa’s drawing table as well. “Last time we were all together, you mentioned that you would be adopting Brandon.”

 

“Yes…” Jon’s brow furrows. Now, he’s well and truly confused.

 

“Well, I… I love you as my own flesh and blood, Jon, and I look to you as my son in every sense of the word, but though your mother told me I had nothing to worry about and your biological father wouldn’t come, bothering you, I looked into it anyway, just wanting to make sure.”

 

Jon feels his body go completely still. Did Arthur come here to tell him about his father? No, that can’t be it. Jon has never wanted to know. He was curious for a time, but that curiosity has long since died and Jon considers himself lucky because he has two fathers in his life – both Arthur and Ned Stark – and what does he need with the man who knocked his mom up and then abandoned them both when he has these two men?

 

Arthur knows all of that. So he can’t be here to tell him something that Jon has absolutely no desire to hear.

 

“And when you said you would be adopting Brandon, I wanted to do the same for you,” Arthur continues.

 

Jon is no longer breathing. All air has stopped in his chest and it is no longer inhaling nor exhaling. He stares at his father and somehow, he knows exactly what Arthur is about to say.

 

Arthur keeps looking at Jon and Jon can now read the look in Arthur’s eyes. Arthur’s afraid.

 

“I tracked the time Sansa had lived away from Wintertown and found that Ramsay Bolton is Brandon’s biological father,” Arthur says. “I looked into the man to see where he is and what he’s up to and if he would be a problem for you and Sansa further on down the road.”

 

_He’s dead_ , Jon says silently to himself. _We buried him in concrete and dropped him to the bottom of the Sea Dragon Point. And no one has missed him in all of this time. Not even his own father. Arthur knows…_

“Arthur,” Jon is finally able to speak, but past his name, Jon has nothing more on his tongue.

 

Arthur takes a step towards him before stopping. “He’s dead, isn’t he? He has dropped off the face of this world and when that happens to a person, usually that means… you know he’s dead, don’t you?”

 

For a split second, Jon considers lying, but if he lies, it will be as if he’s ashamed of what he’s done.

 

And he’s not. Not one day goes by where he regrets killing Ramsay and if it meant keeping Sansa and Brandon safe, Jon would have killed him every single day from then until now.

 

He won’t mention Robb and Ned. He is fully prepared to take complete responsibility and Arthur may be a policeman, but he is also his father and maybe, Arthur will be able to get him a more lenient sentence.

 

Will Sansa want to stay married to him if he’s locked up? He won’t expect her to. He doesn’t know how long he might get, but if he’s locked up for years, he’s not going to make Sansa stay married to him. He killed that son of a bitch so Sansa could be safe and have a life again and keeping herself tied to a man serving in prison is _not_ living.

 

Maybe he _should_ lie for Sansa’s sake, but Arthur is here because Jon knows that he knows the truth already. Lying won’t do any good.

 

Jon gives a single nod. “Yes, I know Ramsay is dead.”

 

Arthur stares at him for an eternal moment. “And you know that for certain?”

 

Jon doesn’t pause this time in replying to him. “You know that I do.”

 

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much to those reading and leaving me kudos and comments! A couple of comments earlier in the story wondered if this would happen, and honestly, I hadn't even thought of it _until_ those comments, but the idea took root in my head and I fell absolutely in love with it so thank you to those for feeding the muse of this story!


	18. Seventeen

…

 

**Seventeen.**

When he stopped drinking, he began smoking. Not all the time. Just when he feels the burning need for a drink. Lighting and smoking a cigarette gives himself something else to focus on other than how much his body is shaking for a beer.

 

He keeps a pack and a lighter in the top drawer of his dresser and he goes to get them now.

 

“Want to play outside for a bit?” Jon asks Brandon when he comes back into the kitchen.

 

“Yes!” Brandon answers excitedly and Jon helps him clean off from his breakfast and then helps him put on his Velcro shoes and jacket before ushering the little boy and both dogs outside into the backyard. Jon has been wanting to build him a playset, but he’s glad he’s held off on doing that.

 

Once they move into their new house, Jon will build his son a playset befit for their new backyard.  

 

Jon and Arthur step outside as well and Jon turns his back against the breeze for a moment so he can cup his hand around the flame as he lights the end of his cigarette. He doesn’t like the idea of smoking around Brandon, but it’s better, in Jon’s opinion, than cracking open a beer bottle. _Much_ better.

 

He looks to Arthur standing next to him. “I need to know if you’re my father right now or Detective Dayne.”

 

“Your father. Always your father,” Arthur answers without hesitating.

 

Jon nods and takes a drag of his cigarette. “Ramsay Bolton was a piece of shit and the world is a better place without him in it,” he plunges right in without any sort of preamble. “He beat and tortured Sansa and it’s a miracle he didn’t actually kill her. When she found out she was pregnant, that’s when she was finally able to leave, running away while he was at work, terrified that he would follow her.”

 

Arthur doesn’t say a word. He stands next to Jon, looking at him and listening.

 

Jon notices that the man doesn’t look surprised though with any of what Jon is telling him and it makes him wonder as to whether Arthur has already known these things. He was a beat cop for years before becoming a detective. He must have seen plenty of things – domestic issues; abused women. Jon wonders if Arthur took one look at Sansa the first time he officially met her as his fiancee and just _knew_ things she had been through before being with Jon.

 

“She was always completely petrified. She couldn’t sleep without the lights on. She jumped a foot anytime the doorbell rang or someone spoke from behind her.”

 

Jon pauses to take a drag of his cigarette. Brandon’s light and happy laughter filled the air as he chases the dogs around the backyard – or they chase him. Jon isn’t actually too sure who is chasing whom and he thinks that Brandon and the dogs don’t know either.

 

“We weren’t together, but I still loved her so much and I couldn’t bear to see her living that way,” Jon whispers. “And I… I had to do _something_.”

 

Brandon is skipping now, Lady and him following one another in a circle. Ghost has abandoned them to go sniff at the ground near the back corner of the fence.

 

“We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine!” Brandon is singing/shouting, his voice echoing in the air.

 

Arthur turns completely towards him, looking at him. “I need to know what you did, Jon. As your father, I need to know.”

 

Jon takes another drag of his cigarette and then as he exhales, he gives a nod.

 

Jon tells him. He tells him how he grabbed Ramsay, beat him to unconsciousness and drove before dumping him into Sea Dragon Point. He doesn’t mention Ned and Robb. He doesn’t mention the crate or the concrete machine they had gotten from Robert Baratheon. Robert has absolutely no idea why Ned had needed such things and Jon isn’t about to implicate any of them now. This is completely on him. He’s prepared for it to be.

 

Once Jon has gotten the entire story out, he falls quiet and finishes his cigarette. Next to him, Arthur is silent, letting all of Jon’s words settle and process in his mind.

 

Jon knows that Arthur has said that, in this moment, he’s his father, but after what Jon has just told him, will he still be the father or the detective that speaks next?

 

“There you all are!”

 

Jon turns when he sees Sansa, smiling and slightly flushed from her run, standing in the backdoor. The instant she sees him smoking though, her smile begins to quickly fade. Sansa knows what it means when Jon smokes.

 

“I’m alright,” Jon makes sure to tell her immediately.

 

Sansa keeps looking at the cigarette though, worry creeping into her eyes.

 

Jon goes to the small concrete slab patio and drops the cigarette, grinding it down beneath his heel. He then picks the butt up and slips it into his jacket pocket before going to Sansa. He slides his hands on her hips.

 

“I’m alright, I promise,” he tells her in a quiet voice, staring into her eyes. “I’ve told Arthur everything.”

 

It takes her less than a handful of seconds to understand just what _everything_ he is talking about.

 

“Jon,” she whispers his name, her eyes widening.

 

“I had to. He guessed some of it and… and I just couldn’t keep it from him. _I’m_ the one who did something and _I’m_ the one that had to confess.”

 

He stares into her eyes, silently imploring for her to understand. But Sansa isn’t stupid and Sansa can read him as well as a book and she knows what he’s trying to say to her without actually coming out and saying it.

 

And when she nods ever so slightly, Jon squeezes his hands around her hips.

 

“Arthur,” Sansa speaks over Jon’s shoulder. “Could you please come inside?”

 

Jon’s brow furrows. “Sansa…”

 

“Brandon, can you play with Ghost and Lady out here for a bit longer?” Sansa then calls out to the boy. “Jon and I have to speak to Grandpa, but it will only take a moment.”

 

Brandon stops running long enough to smile and wave at his mama before he’s off again, skipping and following after Lady in their never-ending circle.

 

“We all live in a yellow submarine, yellow submarine, yellow submarine!”

 

His voice is muffled once the others all come into the kitchen and she closes the backdoor behind them.

 

Sansa takes a deep breath, turning away from the door to look at both Jon and Arthur, both men a little confused as to what Sansa has them doing. Without a word, she steps past them and goes into the living room. She doesn’t tell them to follow her; they know that that’s what they’re supposed to do.

 

“I’ll be right back,” she then tells both of them and they watch as she goes into hers and Jon’s bedroom, closing the door behind her.

 

Alone in the living room, Jon looks to Arthur. The man is still silent, his brow still furrowed, and Jon knows that he’s still thinking about what Jon has told him. Jon wonders what Arthur thinks of him now. He has been in Jon’s life for so long now, has known Jon since he was thirteen and helped raise him into a man, and now, Jon has just told him that he’s killed another person.

 

What can Arthur possibly be thinking right now? Jon has absolutely no idea, but he, personally, is wondering if he’s just lost one of the two fathers he has in his life. Will Arthur be done with him now? What will he tell Lyanna as to why he doesn’t want to see Jon anymore?

 

The bedroom door opens and both men instantly look to Sansa. Jon’s eyes widen slightly when he sees her. She is wearing a pair of short running shorts and a grey sports bra. In that outfit, most of the scars are in plain view for anyone to see and it’s then that Jon knows what she’s doing. He glances towards Arthur, but the man has gone completely still again, not saying a word as he looks at Sansa as she steps completely into the living room. She looks at Arthur rather than Jon as she begins to talk.

 

“I’ve spent so long, thinking of what I was going to do with them, but I’ve decided to keep them. Even this one.” Sansa rolls down the waistband of her shorts just enough for the teeth mark scar on her hip to be shown for Arthur’s eyes.

 

Jon’s jaw clenches. Not because of her scars. He’s told Sansa before and he will tell her every day until their deaths if he has to. These scars show the world just how strong and badass his wife is. These horrific things were done to her and here, she still stands.

 

Ramsay didn’t win and he never will.

 

“I have talked to a plastic surgeon already though and after Jon and I get married again, I _will_ be getting this one covered.” Sansa turns then, showing her back and the ‘R’ carved into the small of it.

 

Arthur exhales a shaky breath and Jon looks to him again, seeing tears glassing over the man’s eyes.

 

“I’m alright now,” Sansa turns back towards him. Still, she’s speaking and looking at no one, but Arthur. “I’m going to therapy every week and there’s a survivors of domestic abuse support group that I go to as well and I’m… I should say that I’m on the _way_ to being alright, but I know that I’ll get there. And Jon… Jon helped me save my life,” she ends in a whisper, finally looking in Jon’s direction.

 

Jon shakes his head. “You saved yourself, Sansa,” he reminds her.

 

Sansa gives him a small smile. He knows that that’s what her therapist, Dr. Tarth, tells her and he completely agrees. Sansa is the one who saved her life. Sansa is the one who survived Ramsay and was strong and brave enough to leave; to come back home to give birth to her son. Jon had nothing to do with that. In fact, if they’re splitting hairs, it’s Jon’s _fault_ that Sansa has to stand in front of his father, showing him her scars.

 

“I know you’re a good man, Arthur,” Sansa looks back to the other man. “I’ve always known that even if I have just now gotten to know you and I know you love Jon and I’m not showing you this to guilt you into doing something and not doing something else. I just wanted to show you so you see that Jon _did_ have his reasons for what he did.”

 

Arthur exhales a shaky breath and Jon knows his father well enough to know that he’s about to start crying, but, though he has been close to tears several times over the years that Jon has known him, Jon has actually never seen the man physically cry. He doesn’t expect to see that happen today either.

 

Jon holds his breath as Arthur crosses the space to Sansa and he pulls her into a hug. Sansa hugs him in return and if Jon thinks they might be uncomfortable with Sansa being in her sports bra and no shirt, neither seem to be acting like it. Arthur whispers something in Sansa’s ear and she closes her eyes and sniffles at his words before nodding her head and whispering something to him in reply.

 

Arthur sniffles again as he steps back from Sansa and turns to Jon. Jon stands there, staring at his father, not sure what to do or if he’s supposed to say anything. Arthur then comes to him and rests a hand on Jon’s shoulder, clasping it. There are still tears in the man’s eyes, but still, none have fallen.

 

“Can you come by the house tomorrow after work? I could use the help with the gutters,” Arthur asks.

 

“I’ll be there,” Jon readily promises and there’s a tightness in his chest, but it’s not from feeling nervous anymore. It’s the overwhelming feeling of relief and love towards this man.

 

Arthur nods once and then pulls Jon into a near bone-crushing hug. Jon doesn’t mind.

 

He leaves then without another word and Jon knows that his mind is still processing everything.

 

Jon exhales a deep breath and turns his head to look at Sansa.

 

She is already looking at him and she gives him a small smile. “I’m going to take a quick shower,” she says before he can say anything. “Do you want to run to the market in a little bit? There’s a new recipe I’ve been wanting to try, but we don’t have any of the things I need.”

 

“Sounds good,” Jon nods and he wonders how she can be so _calm_ after everything. He can still hear the roaring of the blood in his ears.

 

Sansa comes to him and gives him a soft peck on his lips. It’s not the kind of kiss he wants, but it’s the exact kind of kiss he needs in that moment and somehow, Sansa knows that.

 

“I love you,” she whispers.

 

“I love you, too.” He closes his eyes and slips a hand to the back of her neck, kissing her on the forehead.

 

“And don’t forget to brush your teeth,” she says with a smile as she steps away, turning and heading towards the bathroom.

 

Jon cracks a grin – he can’t believe he’s actually able to grin right now – and goes into the kitchen to toss out the cigarette butt from his jacket pocket.

 

…

 

Sansa is panting beneath him, trying to catch her breath, and Jon can still feel slight quakes trembling throughout her body. Jon’s fairly certain that he can feel the same through his own body.

 

“Damn,” he pants and Sansa lets out a breathless laugh.

 

He lifts his face from where he was pressing it to the side of her throat and he looks down to hers. He lifts a hand, brushing sweaty strands of hair, matted to her face with sweat, back for her and Sansa gives him a soft smile, turning her head and brushing her lips along the inside of his wrist.

 

Reluctantly, Jon slides his body off of hers, collapsing tiredly on his side beside her, facing her. Sansa remains on her back, her hands clasped over her heart as if she is willing it to return to a normal beating pace. She turns her head on the pillow and looks at him. Her skin is flushed, but Jon can still tell that she’s blushing.

 

“What?” Jon wonders.

 

She smiles and shakes her head. “I should be asking you that. You’re staring at me.”

 

“Is there something wrong with staring at my wife?”

 

“After what you just did to me? I suppose you can stare,” she says with a casual shrug and he chuckles, moving his body back towards hers.

 

He slides an arm across her stomach and he dips his head in, kissing the corner of her jaw. “Do you ever worry?” He asks, pulling his head back just enough for her to turn her head on her pillow so their eyes can look into one another’s.

 

“Worry about what?” Sansa asks.

 

“Having a baby with me,” he clarifies because he knows that Sansa will have no idea what he’s talking about.

 

“No, I don’t worry about having a baby with my husband,” Sansa answers, frowning a little now. “Why on earth would I worry about that? I want a little George and a little Eleanor. You’ve been working _very_ hard to try and get me pregnant with one of them.”

 

“I want them too,” Jon whispers as if it’s a secret. “Sam and I were talking… and it’s just, Gilly has told him that she doesn’t want another baby in case she passes her alcoholism on.”

 

“Oh,” Sansa says and then she’s quiet again and Jon can see that she’s thinking that over. “I’ve read about that. Certain genes and people being more predisposed to something more than others,” she muses. “I’ve honestly never thought of that with you or our someday children though.”

 

“No?” Jon’s not sure why he sounds surprised. He’s only just begun thinking about this a few days earlier since their dinner with the Tarly family and what Sam told him.

 

“No,” Sansa shakes her head. “You are Brandon’s father in every single way that matters, but… biologically, Ramsay is Brandon’s sperm donor. When I was pregnant, I was absolutely terrified that I was going to give birth to an absolute monster. I thought about having an abortion,” she then admits in a whisper. “I knew I never would and could never go through with it, but sometimes, that thought would linger in my mind because there was always that _what if_?”

 

Jon doesn’t know what to say to that. He’s fairly certain that there’s nothing he _can_ say and he knows that Sansa isn’t looking for him to say anything. Not right now.

 

“But the instant I gave birth to Brandon and held him in my arms the first time, I knew that I had nothing to worry about. He looked like me and as he got older and his personality began developing, I knew – again – that I had nothing to worry about. There isn’t a single thing in Brandon that is anything like Ramsay,” Sansa continues. “So if I can have a child from an absolutely monstrous man like Ramsay that is absolutely _nothing_ like the man, why would I be afraid to have a child with the best man I’ve ever met?”

 

“Fuck,” Jon breathes and squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re going to make me cry,” he admits.

 

Sansa lifts her head from the pillow and brushes her lips across his cheek. “We are going to love that baby to absolute death and give it the best home to grow up in. We can’t control everything, Jon, and if something like that happens… having a child is just like rolling a dice. We won’t know until we know. What if our baby becomes a serial killer?”

 

Jon’s eyes open at that and he gives Sansa a look. “That’s an interesting thing to say,” he comments.

 

“Still,” she shrugs again. “There’s always that possibility. So does that mean we shouldn’t have a baby at all because there’s a slim, minute _chance_ that our baby will grow up to be a person we won’t necessarily approve of?”

 

“If our baby becomes a serial killer, you not approving of it is the most you will have to say about it?” Jon asks her and Sansa lets out a laugh; a laugh that makes him smile.

 

He doesn’t know how Sansa does that, but when he worries, Sansa will say something that will just completely wash those worries away. Right now, it might be a slightly ridiculous way that she has done just that, but at the same time, she makes a very good point.

 

Brandon isn’t Ramsay.

 

And Jon thinks that that is a hell of a ringing endorsement for genes sometimes not being passed on from the parents onto their children.

 

Jon cups one of Sansa’s cheeks and leans down, kissing her. “Thank you,” he whispers. _For everything_.

 

“I’m ready,” Sansa informs him.

 

“Already?” Jon can’t help, but be surprised. “I’m not a machine,” he pretends to grumble as if put out.

 

“No, but you _did_ promise me that you would knock me up and I can be on top if you want. You won’t have to do anything,” she says as if promising him and she begins pressing kisses to all over his face as she slowly rolls them over, placing him on his back.

 

“Well, how can I turn such a proposition like that down?” He asks with a smile and with her straddling him, Sansa lets out another laugh and all Jon can do is look up at the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen – his wife – and smile, too, thinking that all he wants in this world is to have a baby with her.

 

…


	19. Eighteen

…

 

**Eighteen.**

_“We received our invitations,”_ Stannis speaks from the other end of the phone. _“Robert and I will be attending and I know Robert is very much looking forward to it.”_

 

Jon smiles a little, noting immediately that Stannis hadn’t said that _he_ was looking forward to it as well. He wonders if the man actually looks forward to anything in this world. Probably winning a project bid. Definitely receiving payments. Maybe even a root canal.

 

_“And we will have all of the papers drawn up and will bring them with us. I assume you aren’t against signing them before your wedding?”_

“I look forward to it, Mr. Baratheon,” Jon says, still with a little smile across his face.

 

 _“Jon,”_ Stannis says with that natural stern voice of his. _“We’re going to be partners. My name is Stannis.”_

 

“Stannis,” Jon echoes. “I’m not sure if you want to be the one to break this to your brother, but the wedding reception is going to be a dry one.”

 

Stannis makes a noise then and Jon swears that it’s a chuckle.

 

 _“We will let him figure that out for himself,”_ is Stannis’ reply. _“See you in two weeks.”_

“Thank you, Stannis,” Jon says, only pausing for a breath before saying the man’s name.

 

When the call has ended, Jon slides his cell phone onto the kitchen table before heading down the hallway. The door to the office is standing open and Jon steps inside, smiling when he sees everyone gathered in there. Ned is standing at his desk with Jory Cassel – the Warden’s right-hand-man ins all business matters – is with him, looking over the papers on Ned’s desk. Catelyn, Lyanna and Arthur are in the office as well. But Jon’s eyes fall immediately to the remaining two people in the room.

 

Sansa and Brandon are sitting on the couch, side by side, and Sansa is saying something to Brandon that is making the little boy giggle with delight and Sansa leans in, beaming, and she kisses him on the head.

 

But it as if he has a sixth sense because Brandon whips his head around and sees Jon in the doorway.

 

“Daddy!” He exclaims, getting everyone else’s attention, all heads turning to Jon.

 

He smiles at them all and then his attention is back on Brandon and Sansa as Brandon comes running towards him and Sansa stands up, keeping her eyes on Jon and smiling at him. Jon bends down, hoisting Brandon into his arms, and gives him a kiss on his head before looking to sans, smiling at her as she walks to them.

 

“Everything good?” She asks, knowing that he’s been talking to Stannis Baratheon.

 

“Better than good,” Jon confirms. “Both will be coming for the wedding.” Sansa smiles and Jon leans in, giving her a chaste kiss on the cheek. “And is everything good in here?” He asks.

 

“Dad and Jory are just making sure every ‘t’ is crossed,” she says, looking towards the two men at the desk. She then looks back to Jon and Brandon in his arms. “And I was just telling Brandon that they’ve drawn something up for him to sign, too. To make it _really_ official.”

 

That makes Jon burst into his eye-crinkling smile and he kisses Brandon’s head again and then leans in, kissing Sansa on the lips this time.

 

“Alright!” Ned’s voice snatches everyone’s attention. “We are ready.”

 

Jon and Sansa seem to exhale deep breaths at the same time and Jon sets Brandon down on his feet again. Sansa slips her hand into Jon’s and he gives it a squeeze, Sansa squeezing it back and giving him a smile. Everyone else is already at the desk and they all smile as Jon and Sansa come to stand between Jory and Ned. Ned claps a hand on Jon’s shoulder and there are tears in the man’s eyes. Jon manages a smile in return, but he has to look away because he doesn’t want to start crying as well. Not yet.

 

“Alright. Let’s begin,” Jory speaks. “Jon Snow. Sansa Snow. Please state your names and what we are doing here today.”

 

There is a small microphone set up on the desk and Jon makes sure to speak clearly into it.

 

“My name is Jon Snow and I am here to adopt Brandon Eddard Stark,” he states.

 

He hears his mother sniffle and he sees Catelyn handing her a tissue, already having one to dab to her eyes.

 

“My name is Sansa Snow and I am here to permit Jon Snow, my husband, to adopt Brandon Eddard Stark,” Sansa says.

 

“The child, Brandon Eddard Stark, is three years old and old enough to answer and we will now ask him. Brandon, would you like to be adopted by Jon Snow, take his last name and have him be your father?” Jory asks and holds the microphone down closer to Brandon.

 

“Yes!” Brandon nearly shouts, Sansa having already gone over the question with him and explained it to him beforehand, and everyone shares a soft laugh at his eagerness. 

 

“And everyone present understands that this adoption is a permanent, life-long commitment and that you, Jon and Sansa, will be equally responsible for this child if your marriage should end?” Jory asks.

 

“Yes,” Jon and Sansa both answer at the same time and Jon squeezes Sansa’s hand once more.

 

 _If your marriage should end_ – not going to happen, Jon thinks, but if that’s what he has to vow today to make this happen then that’s what he’ll say.

 

“Jon, you first,” Ned hands him a pen with a smile.

 

Jon takes it and leans over to the papers that Jory has already notarized and signs his name on the dotted line. He hears a click and looks to see that Catelyn has her camera, taking pictures.

 

Jon straightens and hands the pen to Sansa and she leans over, signing her name on the appropriate line. Another click.

 

“And now you, Brandon, you sign this one,” Jory says, producing another notarized piece of paper and Jon wraps an arm around Brandon’s waist, hoisting him up, and Sansa hands him the pen.

 

The paper is much simpler for Brandon. “ _I accept Jon Snow as my daddy.”_ Jon smiles when he sees the words.

 

Brandon leans over the paper and spells out his first name that he has learned how to spell in both daycare and from Sansa. Catelyn clicks at least five more pictures.

 

“And now, Warden Stark,” Jory says.

 

“Here, grampa!” Brandon thrusts the pen out for Ned to take.

 

“Thank you, Brandon,” Ned chuckles and signs his name onto the document along with Jon and Sansa’s names. More clicks.

 

“This will be kept in official records of the North as well as with a newly issued birth certificate,” Jory says. “The parents will also receive official copies of both to be kept with their other personal paperwork.”

 

Jon looks to Sansa and she has tears pooled in her eyes and seeing her about to start crying, Jon can feel the beginnings of tears forming in his own eyes.

 

Ned takes the document and reads it over one more time, looking over the three signatures and he clears his throat then, placing it down and picking up his gavel. “Ladies and gentlemen, as Warden of the North, I _proudly_ present to you the Snow family.”

 

The applause is instant, filling the office, and Catelyn clicks more pictures as hugs and tears go around.

 

“I’m a Snow!” Brandon exclaims, making them all laugh and more tears fall.

 

Jon is still holding Brandon in his arms and he doesn’t let him go as everyone in the room hugs him and then hugs him again. Jon keeps holding Brandon and he’s not sure if he ever wants to put him down again, to be honest. This is his son. Brandon’s been his son for months, but now, it’s official. This is his son and he’s this boy’s dad. Forever.

 

He looks to find Sansa among their family and she’s crying and hugging her dad, Ned crying, too.

 

“Oh, my Jon,” Lyanna says and sweeps both Jon and Brandon into her arms for a countless hug.

 

Jon buries his face in his mom’s shoulder as if he’s a little boy himself and takes a shuddering breath.

 

“I am so happy for you, Jon,” Lyanna whispers to him.

 

If he thought Arthur would hesitate in hugging him, Jon is soon calling himself an idiot as Arthur pulls him – and Brandon – into his arms. He squeezes too tight, but Brandon is just too happy to complain and Jon is just so _relieved_ that he still has Arthur in his life now that Arthur knows his darkest, deepest secret. He should have known better. He shouldn’t have doubted him for a moment.

 

“Alright,” Catelyn speaks up, her voice shaking with emotion, but her eyes bright with happiness. “Everyone else should be arriving within the next half hour and the caterers will be here any moment.”

 

Catelyn and Ned are, of course, throwing a party at their home in celebration for the adoption becoming official and everyone in the Stark family as well as friends will be descending on the house that afternoon. And the other adults in the room begin leaving the office, discussing the party amongst other things.

 

“How is your bottom, Brandon Snow?” Sansa asks, coming to them.

 

Brandon beams at the use of his full name. “I go pee,” he decides.

 

“Alright. You go take care of business,” Jon says and giving him a kiss on the cheek, he bends down and finally puts him from his arms back to his feet.

 

Both Jon and Sansa watch as he goes scurrying from the office and they find themselves the only ones left. Jon decides to take advantage of the moment – especially with the house about to be crowded with people for the next few hours – and he grabs Sansa’s hand, pulling her closer towards him for him to be able to put his arms around her.

 

Sansa smiles, looping her arms around his shoulders, and they rest their foreheads together, both closing their eyes and taking a deep breath.

 

“Well, there’s no getting rid of us now,” Sansa says to him.

 

“Thank the Gods for that,” Jon breathes and Sansa smiles.

 

He places his hand on the back of her head and gently pulls her in, guiding her lips to his, and both seem to sink into the kiss simultaneously.

 

They hear the doorbell ring, it echoing throughout the house, and Jon reluctantly pulls his lips from hers.

 

“I know your parents love throwing a party for any occasion and this is definitely an occasion, but I wish you, me and Brandon could just go home and have our own little party,” he confesses, almost feeling guilty for even wanting that.

 

Ned and Catelyn Stark have been so good to him – to put it mildly – and have done so much for him – to put it lightly and he’s always been a part of the family, but now, he’s _officially_ a part of the Stark family. He is married to their oldest daughter and father to their first grandchild and these are all reasons to celebrate, of course, but Jon’s just not in the mood for a full-blown party where he’s at the center of it all.

 

“I told my mom we’re only staying for a couple of hours. I know none of us slept that well last night, too excited for today,” Sansa reveals to him with a small smile.

 

Jon matches it with one of his own. “How’d you get so good at reading my mind?” He wonders.

 

Sansa’s smile grows. “You say that as if there’s so much going on in your mind in the first place,” she teases. “Jon!” She then cries out amidst laughter as he grabs her around the waist and begins tickling her. “No, Jon! Stop!” She yelps, trying to twist away from him, and she can’t stop laughing.

 

“Mama! Daddy!” Brandon runs back into the office. “Look what granma made for today!”

 

Jon stops tickling Sansa and they both look to see what the boy has. In each hand, he is holding a sugar cookie shaped like a snowflake with blue icing. Jon smiles at the sight – not only of Brandon, but at the snow cookies. Leave it to Catelyn Stark to have snow-themed food for the party. It’s no mystery as to where her daughter has gotten her talent for throwing theme parties from.

 

“Brandon Eddard Snow, _two_ cookies? Before you eat real food?” Sansa looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

 

“Uncle Robb got ‘em for me!” Brandon exclaims before taking a big bite out of one.

 

“Robb!” Sansa calls out.

 

Jon crouches down and Brandon comes to him, holding out one of the cookies for him. “Thank you,” Jon smiles at him and takes the cookie, Brandon smiling, looking quite pleased that he did. Jon then takes a big bite of it and moans at the sweetness. Brandon giggles now.

 

“Robb!” Sansa calls out again and a moment later, Robb comes into the office, a cookie in each hand, his mouth full with a bite from one.

 

“What?” He asks with a shrug.

 

…

 

“I’ve always dreamed about going to a Beatles concert,” Sansa comments from beside him. “And now, I can say that I have some idea as to what they were like.”

 

Jon gives her a grin and she looks at him, smiling, laughter bubbling through.

 

There are kids everywhere, some as little and young as Brandon, the older ones probably being around six. And all seem to be shouting and yelling and dragging their parents in every direction. The show is slated to start at three o’clock that afternoon and they still have a half hour to go.

 

“Mama, look!” Brandon exclaims from his perch on Jon’s shoulders and they look to a vendor booth – one of many in the theatre’s lobby selling _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ merchandise.

 

It’s the same stand that Little Sam has already dragged Sam and Gilly to.

 

“Alright. We can’t possibly come to the show and _not_ buy a souvenir,” Sansa agrees.

 

“Let’s go, Little Snow, and see what they have,” Jon says, squeezing his hands around Brandon’s ankles as Brandon pumps his fists into the air, cheering.

 

Not surprisingly, the _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ characters have seemed to be slapped on everything imaginable. Toothbrushes and alarm clocks and that doesn’t even begin to cover the clothing.

 

“Hey,” Gilly comes up to them and hands them a plastic bag with the _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ hippos printed onto it – of course. “They sell parent survival kits. I’ve already bought four for us.”

 

“Oh, Gilly, thank you,” Sansa says graciously and then laughs when she sees what is in it. Jon leans in to see what it is – a bottle of water, container of aspirin and ear plugs. “It’s perfect,” she says and Jon agrees.

 

They walk around the stand for a few minutes, Brandon wanting everything he sees and Jon trying not to fall over when he catches sight of the price tags. This is highway robbery, he thinks as he picks up a bottle of _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ bubblegum flavored mouthwash – because they sell that too, of course – and his eyes bug from his head when he sees that it’s fifteen dollars.

 

“What do you think of this, Brandon?” Sansa asks from behind them and Jon turns so both he and Brandon can see what Sansa has find.

 

It’s a royal blue, thick-knit scarf with the four main hippo characters printed on it. It’s actually one of the least obnoxious things Jon sees here.

 

“I love it,” Brandon gasps when he sees it.

 

Sansa smiles and standing on her toes, she wraps the scarf around his neck. “It looks perfect.”

 

Brandon beams proudly and fingers the fringed ends.

 

“We should get one for each of us, too,” Jon suggests. Sansa looks at his with surprise and Jon shrugs, smiling a little. “Souvenirs to remember today.”

 

Sansa laughs and takes one scarf, wrapping it around her neck – the royal blue color looks beautiful with her red hair, Jon thinks – and then Sansa takes a third scarf and wraps it around Jon’s neck.

 

“Do you honestly think we’ll forget today? Even if we really, _really_ want to?” Sansa asks.

 

Jon just grins and holding onto one of Brandon’s ankles with one hand, he pulls his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans with the other, handing it over to Sansa. She smiles at him and leans in, giving him a kiss. When she begins to step back, Jon decides that he’s not done yet and snatching her hand, he pulls her back. A smile ghosts across Sansa’s lips as Jon’s lips close in on hers.

 

“Daddy!” Brandon suddenly shrieks, causing Jon to rip his head back.

 

“What?” He asks, slightly panicked, eyes wide. He tilts his head up to look up at Brandon.

 

“Look!” Brandon points to something and both Jon and Sansa look to see what has his attention.

 

Bright sno-cones in plastic _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ cups – of course.

 

“Snow! Like us!” Brandon grins down at his parents.

 

Jon nearly groans. His son knows how to get him, that’s for sure. He squeezes his ankles. “Let’s pay for our scarves and then we’ll get a sno-cone and then we’ll go to our seats. It’s almost time for the show.”

 

“Yay!” Brandon says and throws his fists into the air with such enthusiasm, he nearly knocks himself back off Jon’s shoulders and Jon scrambles to grip his ankles tightly.

 

“I should have seen this coming,” Sansa smiles as she walks towards the cashier at the register.

 

“Seen what?” Jon asks, following after her.

 

“You’re going to be the sucker parent and I’m going to have to be the stern one,” Sansa says, only half-teasing him as she takes her scarf off so it can be scanned. As soon as it is, she wraps it around her neck again.

 

“You’re just _now_ figuring that out?” Jon smirks and lets out a laugh as Sansa elbows him in his stomach.

 

Jon’s not going to lie. He’s very grateful for the aspirin Gilly has bought for them once they get to their seats. He’s seen footage of the Beatles concerts. This isn’t too far from that. The entire theater is filled with screaming kids, all getting anxious for the show to start. Sansa has already wisely put her ear plugs in and she has her phone out, smiling and laughing as she has started to record both Jon and Brandon.

 

And when the heavy red curtain sweeps across the stage and four adults dressed as the four hippos from _Hubba Bubba Hotel_ appear, Jon winces as the screaming grows even louder and more intense. The theme song begins to play and the hippos – and every single kid in the theater – begins to sing.

 

_Hidden deep inside the jungle,_

_There’s hippos! There’s hippos!_

_Chloe, Zoe, Mick and Vic!_

_They’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

_Chloe’s pretty,_

_And Zoe’s so smart!_

_Mick is always funny,_

_And Vic can beeeeeeeee_

_A bit mean._

_But they’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

_And they’re very best, best friends!_

_Chloe, Zoe, Mick and Vic!_

_They’re hippos! They’re hippos!_

_And they’re friends until the end!_

Jon makes sure to hold onto Brandon’s ankles tightly because the way he is excitedly screaming and singing along, he’s about to take a head dive to the floor and Jon’s thinking that _might_ ruin the show. Next to him, Sansa laughs as she records Brandon singing and shouting for the hippos on stage and she’s just so happy because he is happy and Jon lets out a laugh for the same reason.

 

Jon doesn’t normally consider himself to be a dramatic person, but he’s fairly certain, many years from now, he’ll be on his deathbed, still hearing this song in his head.

And actually, he’s okay with that because this is life and he wouldn’t trade it for the world and he’ll do anything to never come close to losing it.

 

…

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so, so much for reading and sticking with this story and loving this world I've created. Jon and Sansa's second wedding and reception will be its own separate one-short and I have a few other little stories planned as well for the new Snow family. Thank you again!


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